What Kaitaama wants
by Braxin
Summary: Alien lust, and suppressed emotions. What could be better? This story has two possible timelines, which diverge after chapter 5. Choose to go from chapter 5 to chapter 6 for one possible timeline, or go from chapter 5 directly to chapter 7 for another timeline.
1. Chapter 1

**—Chapter 1—**

"Morning, Captain," said Trip, as he entered the Captain's Mess.

"Good morning, Trip," said captain Archer.

"Commander," said T'Pol, with a slight nod of her head.

"How is my little Vulcan princess this morning?" said Trip with a grim smile towards the SubCommander. "We doing ok, SubCommander? Did you sleep all right?"

I should learn to let things go, thought Trip, but he was still annoyed over last night's argument with T'Pol.

He'd had to work late last night, supervising a tricky job in Engineering and T'Pol had come to his office, food in hand, so they'd eaten a late dinner in his office. She'd come in order to discuss some theoretical suggestions on how to goose up engine performance during their meal. She'd laid out her case logically, quoted some recently published Vulcan studies in warp field mechanics and no doubt expected him to kowtow to her superior Vulcan intellect. But he was a better engineer than she imagined herself to be, and he'd read the same studies the day they came out, which clearly surprised T'Pol. When he'd politely pointed out the problems with adapting these findings to the Enterprises' engines, he expected T'Pol to agree with him, because she was sharp enough to understand the mechanics of the issue.

Instead, she all but called him a fool, in the politest of words, then seemingly went out of her way to bait him into a fight, even when he held on to his temper and logically pointed out the problems in question from a different angle, reasoning that perhaps he had not been clear enough in his first explanation. However, that approach only increased T'Pol's efforts to bait him into an argument, and when he'd had enough of T'Pol attitude, he'd obliged the Vulcan in a display that brought Engineering to a standstill. He was winning too, despite T'Pol verbose responses to his concise verbal jabs, until his eyes were drawn to the SubCommander's plump lips, as she slowly bit her lower lip. He'd always found the Vulcan attractive, but this was the first time he'd spaced out while looking at her, and it was a clearly a tactical mistake, because he immediately lost track of the argument and T'Pol rolled right over him. Worst of all, before she'd left Engineering he'd seen a victorious look in her eyes, a look he didn't understand. She'd won her share of arguments before, no reason to take such pleasure in this particular one.

Hell, I'll never understand Vulcans, thought Trip.

"I am just fine, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, in a voice that was just shy of a purr, "and I slept quite well, thank you for asking."

Behind her mask of Vulcan serenity, T'Pol was quite pleased. That Commander Tucker had come out 'guns blazing', so to speak, first thing in the morning, proved beyond doubt that he'd acknowledged her victory last night, if only to himself. She should feel ashamed for provoking the man so mercilessly, for he'd been correct in his technical appraisal of the theoretical suggestions and improvements she'd brought to his attention, but truthfully, she found the man fascinating. Where other Vulcans anger was a cold thing, a thing of sarcasm, clipped words and short sentences, for they would be ashamed to display anything remotely emotional, Commander Tucker's anger was hot, and alive, and intoxicating, and most wonderful of all, completely without rancor, like a sudden summer storm, quickly roused, and quickly passing in order to let the sun shine forth once more. Some flaw in her character enjoyed provoking an emotional reaction out of the Commander, and she wondered, simply out of idle curiosity, if such passion would be just as intoxicating during the Commander's mating time… or even more so. She blushed now at that thought, though neither captain nor commander noticed that fact, and wondered why her thoughts should run in that direction. She would have to meditate on the matter. She'd also have to meditate on the pleasure she took from the fact that Commander Tucker was driven to distraction by her, for she'd bit her lip on purpose, having read of it in a Human book, and seen it recommended as a way of flirting with a man. That it had worked so well to derail and distract the Commander meant he had at least a slight sexual interest in her, no?

The captain's steward stepped up to take the commander's breakfast order, and Archer took the opportunity to grin at T'Pol, and say, "I heard the two of you had a hell of an argument last night. One enterprising engineer even recorded the whole thing and posted it on the ship's net. I'm getting some popcorn after my shift is over and settling in for a good show. Forty-seven minutes, you guys went at it."

"You should take up a hobby, Captain," said T'Pol. "You would find it much more interesting than my arguments with Commander Tucker."

"I don't think I would, SubCommander. What's this make, like your thousandth fight?"

"One thousand and one," said Trip, turning his attention to the discussion at hand. "So, what's up, Captain? The last thing I want to see first thing in the morning is that busted up mug of yours. You look like shit this morning, sir."

Archer chuckled, and said, "I couldn't sleep 'till right before dawn, so I watched water polo matches all night long."

"No kidding?" said Trip. "I was up half the night myself, 'cause of the way T'Pol aggravated the hell out of me."

It must have been tricky to pull off a smug look, given a Vulcan's cultural restrictions on displaying emotions, but T'Pol managed it somehow.

Still, she must have felt at least a twinge of guilt at being the cause of the commander's loss of sleep, for she said, "Next time I have that effect on you, Commander, get in touch with me. I can press a few neural points on your neck and back in order to make you sleepy, through the use of Vulcan neuro-pressure."

"Yeah, I'll do that, T'Pol," said Trip, shooting a suspicious look in T'Pol's direction for she had not made that same offer to the captain, before turning his attention back to Jon. "Anyway, if I'd known you were awake, Captain, I'd have joined you."

"We'll have to work out some kind of a system for such occasions," said Archer. "Anyway, this is a working breakfast, Trip. The Enterprise has been contacted, through StarFleet HQ, and invited to pay a visit to Krios Prime, for the coronation of the First Monarch, Kaitaama, and then invited to take a shore leave there. Her people are curious about Humans, so we'll be on our best behavior."

Trip smiled at the thought of seeing Kaitaama again, though he hid it well, behind his napkin. Hid it well enough to pass the captain's scrutiny, but not T'Pol's. The SubCommander gave a slight frown.

"Really?" said Trip. "Are we taking them up on the invitation?"

"StarFleet insists on it," said the captain. "The diplomats are angling for the chance to open formal relations between Earth and Krios Prime, and StarFleet is eager to discuss the construction of a StarBase in that sector eventually, as our fleet grows. So, we make a stop on Vulcan, to pick up one of our diplomats from our embassy, then we're off to Krios Prime."

"I see," said Trip.

"How do you feel about that, Trip?" said Jon.

The captain grinned, for it was widely suspected that Trip and the princess had consummated their, ah, 'friendship', though Trip, man of discretion that he was, neither confirmed nor denied the rumors, for he believed that would only keep the narrative going on much longer than ignoring the questions.

"I will do my duty for Earth, and the Fleet, in the interests of diplomacy," said Trip, raising his glass of milk. "To the future First Monarch of Krios Prime."

"Really, Commander Tucker? Duty to Earth and the Fleet," said T'Pol, displeased for some reason at these developments, and refusing to toast the object of the Commander's perverted desires. "Your willingness to visit Krios Prime is motivated solely by such noble sentiments?"

"What else, T'Pol?" said Trip, an utterly innocent look on his face, a look which fooled the Vulcan not in the least.


	2. Chapter 2

**—Chapter 2—**

The Enterprise waited only briefly before being given permission to orbit Krios Prime. The entire planet knew that this was the ship which had rescued the Princess Kaitaama from slavery, and so the ship and the crew were honored guests. The captain decided to give the entire crew leave, on a rotating basis, in order that they might enjoy Krios Prime, while the captain and his officers were invited to the Royal Palace in order to attend the coronation ceremony. Once there, they were ushered to the presence of the High Council, where they were officially thanked for the rescue of Kaitaama, offered accommodations at the palace for the duration of their stay on Krios Prime, and prime seating for that evening's ceremony.

When the evening came around and the ceremony commenced, it was everything such things were meant to be: impressive, ostentatious, elaborate and long lasting. The selected members of the Enterprises' crew had front row seats to the coronation, and when it was finally over, and the crown of the First Monarch of Krios Prime gently settled on Kaitaama's lovely head, the entire chamber, filled to capacity by thousands of Krios Prime's elite, broke out in applause. Eventually, after an hour or so during which the First Monarch circulated through the room in her regalia, thanking the attendees for their presence on this occasion, Kaitaama left the room, in order to change into something a bit more comfortable. The party would go on all night, all over Krios Prime, and the First Monarch would have to pace herself.

"Hell of a show," said Trip, looking at his fellow shipmates.

"I'd kill for that crown!," said Hoshi. "Those diamonds would keep me set for life."

"Perhaps I'll steal it, Ensign," said Malcolm with a smile, "and dole diamonds out to you, in return for, ah, favors and companionship."

"Deal," said Hoshi. "No take backs!"

"No, no. No deal," said Archer. "We're not stealing the crown jewels, and we're not making any deals that skirt perilously close to prostitution."

"Oh," said Hoshi, "there's no skirting involved here, sir. We're talking outright prostitution."

"Yes, sir," said a chastened Malcolm, hanging his head, then whispered to Hoshi, "we'll talk later about the crown."

Hoshi nodded solemnly, and Archer scoffed, then turned his attention to one of the hundreds of servants mingling with the crowd, offering the Kriosian version of champagne. In due time one of the servers made their way to Archer, a dozen glasses still on his tray.

"Travis," said Archer, speaking to the Ensign next to him. "Help me out with this."

"Yes, sir," said Travis, and the two efficiently passed fluted glasses to the rest of the crew.

"So, T'Pol," said Trip, looking at the Vulcan, "did you enjoy the show?"

"I find pomp and circumstance tedious," said T'Pol, "but it is well that we attended. It will aid StarFleet's negotiations in the future."

Just then, a Kriosian approached the humans, and said, "The First Monarch invites you to share a meal with her."

Archer nodded his agreement and indicated that the man should lead the way, and shortly afterwards the crew found themselves in what looked like a private dining room, seated round an oval table in wide, plush, tanned leather chairs, each meant for two occupants each. The chairs were really more like mini-sofas, so that sitting thus was almost like sitting in a booth, though easier to get in and out of.

"Oh, these chairs are nice," said Trip.

"Yeah," said Archer, for he appreciated the comfort of his chair.

"I'll have to build a couple of these chairs for the Captain's Mess. One of these chairs would make a fine throne for you, Captain, and T'Pol and I would be as snug as peas in a pod sharing the other. We're always playing footsies under the table anyway, but in this type of chair we can hold hands, as well," said Trip, with a grin on his face, for he was looking for payback for the other night's argument. "What do you say to that, SubCommander?"

Hoshi snickered and looked at T'Pol expectantly.

"I am certain that I do not care on what type of chair I sit, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, refusing to play along with the commander's premise, though truthfully she found the idea of playing footsies and holding hands with the commander intriguing, simply for the sake of sampling Human dating habits, of course, nothing more.

"I'll take that as a yes than, T'Pol," said Trip. "To everything I said."

Just then, Kaitaama entered the room, the simple but elegant silver gown she'd changed into doing nothing but favors for her figure, and everyone stood, both in order to pay respect to the First Monarch, and in order to allow her to choose her place at the table.

"Trip,"said Kaitaama, her eyes bright with pleasure, as she approached the human with a smile. This was the first time she'd seen him since his arrival on Krios Prime. "It's so good to see you again."

"Likewise, First Monarch," said Trip.

Kaitaama noted that the man had said that politely enough, but his smile, and his glance, allowed a bit of the devil inside this man to make an appearance, and that pleased Kaitaama. He was still the scoundrel she remembered. She offered him her left hand, and Trip gently grasped Kaitaama's fingers and brought her hand up to his lips. The proper thing to do, according to Kriosian custom would have been to touch his lips to the back of her fingers. Instead, Trip slipped the tips of Kaitaama's fingers into his mouth and nibbled on them, while growling. Archer sighed, Malcolm looked askance, Hoshi snickered, Travis froze, and T'Pol frowned, while Kaitaama laughed.

"Still as charming as I remember you, Commander Tucker," said Kaitaama, then looked at the rest of the crew. "Come. Let's eat something. Trip, sit with me, please."

Moments later, Trip found himself sharing a seat with the First Monarch, wedged between two beautiful women, for T'Pol was on his left, sharing her seat with Travis, while Hoshi shared with Malcolm, and Archer sat alone, facing Kaitaama. The staff shortly laid out foods before them and they began eating, and talking, first of the magnificence of the coronation ceremony, then on to other topics, until eventually they got to dessert, and a handsome slice of chocolate cake, decorated with thin sheets of gold leaf, along with something that smelled and looked like espresso coffee.

"I know you'll recognize the chocolate from your own world," said Kaitaama. "It's one of your most popular exports here on Krios Prime."

"How did you come by it, First Monarch?" said Archer. "I didn't think it possible that any of our merchants had made it out this way."

"The Vulcans enjoy it as well," said Kaitaama, looking at the captain, "and we purchase it from them."

"I love this coffee, First Monarch," said Trip. "It's so strong, but it's smooth as well."

"Then you and that coffee have something in common, Commander Tucker," said Kaitaama, with a pleasant smile.

Travis and Hoshi laughed at that. T'Pol merely looked at the First Monarch, her face composed, though it was unseemly for a head of state to flirt so openly with Commander Tucker, as the Vulcan saw things. Trip smiled and dipped his head to acknowledge the compliment, while T'Pol frowned slightly now, and stiffened her back. She'd had enough of Krios Prime, and wished that the Enterprise would leave orbit tonight.

"It's Klingon coffee," said Travis, whose previous family life growing up in the merchant fleet had offered him more chances to sample the universe, than even the crew of the Enterprise. "I've only tasted it once before, but I remember the taste."

"The Ensign is right," said Kaitaama, with a smile for Travis. "It comes from a small settlement deep inside the Klingon Empire, around Qu'Vat, I believe. All that settlement produces is this coffee, but it is very good. The Klingons officially keep the entire crop for themselves, but smugglers bring some of it out of the Empire, for an obscene profit, of course."

"I don't suppose you could put me in touch with your smugglers, First Monarch?" said Archer.

"I'm afraid not, Captain," said Kaitaama. "These petty criminals rely on my discretion, given the penalty they face if captured by the Klingons, but I will have some transported to the Enterprise."

"That's very kind of you, First Monarch. Thank you," said Archer. "By the way, what is the penalty for smuggling coffee out of the Klingon Empire?"

"Death or a lengthy imprisonment," said Kaitaama, "is the usual punishment for serious crimes in the Klingon Empire, and smuggling is considered a serious crime."

"That seems a heavy price for coffee beans," said Archer. "In any case, gratitude for any of this coffee you can spare. It's excellent."

"Not at all. I owe my life, my freedom and my position to the brave actions of your crew," said Kaitaama.

The First Monarch had rested her hand on Commander Tucker's forearm as she'd spoken that last sentence, making it clear which members of the crew she felt most indebted to for her rescue. T'Pol noted that act, and it did not please her, for some reason. Perhaps it was that the act was a bit more personal, than proper. This woman might be the First Monarch of Krios Prime, but she had no right to touch the commander so possessively. She did not own him after all, and the man might find a more suitable mate than Kaitaama!

Was it also possible that she, T'Pol, was jealous of Kaitaama? Was it? Truly? She could not be sure, though she was honest enough with herself to admit that not long ago, when she'd distracted the Chief Engineer during their argument by biting her lower lip, she'd felt unexpectedly pleased at the thought that Commander Tucker found her attractive to distraction.

"Well," said the First Monarch, snapping T'Pol from her reverie, "I will be expected to circulate once more amongst the guests. Commander Tucker, will you accompany me? I will need your strength through the long night, and it's well known that you're my noble rescuer. Everyone wants to meet you."

"I'd be honored," said Trip, standing.

He held his arm out for Kaitaama, and the First Monarch slipped her arm in his.

"How do we look?" said Trip.

"Fantastic," said Archer, and the rest of the crew nodded sincerely.

T'Pol, for her part, felt an illogical impulse to yank on the First Monarch's elaborate hairstyle until that woman learned to keep her hands off that which was not her's to begin with!

I'm not being petty, thought T'Pol, it's just unseemly of the First Monarch to act so, so possessive, where Commander Tucker is concerned. He has not chosen a mate yet!

"Please rejoin the party," said Kaitaama to the rest of the crew, "unless you're weary. If so, let someone know. You have a suite, adjoining my own, in the palace."

"Thank you, First Monarch," said Archer, and the First Monarch, and her Human escort left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**—Chapter 3—**

The crew chose to return to the party, and soon after, Archer was enjoying the attentions of a number of Kriosian nobles as they conversed about the Enterprise's adventures. Meanwhile, Hoshi and Malcolm had drifted off on their own, sampling the various liquors provided, as well as some of a wide array of Kriosian tapas and sweets being offered. The variety was tempting no matter how piggish such behavior on their part, given that they'd just eaten a meal with the First Monarch. For his part, Travis was happily speaking with a number of junior ship's officers who had attended the coronation at the invitation of their captains: it was a common Kriosian custom, for at such social events, a junior officer might make valuable connections.

T'Pol spoke politely with a number of people who approached her, for the Kriosians liked Vulcans and were curious of what a Vulcan thought of the relatively new spacefaring species, Humans, but her eyes were constantly drawn to the sight of Commander Tucker and the First Monarch, as the two moved about the room. Commander Tucker was well received for his courage in rescuing Kaitaama and preserving her life until the rest of the crew came to their rescue, and it did no harm that he was both charming and handsome. For her part, the First Monarch was glowing, in no small measure because of the proximity of her handsome rescuer, of that T'Pol was certain.

Yes, thought T'Pol, the two seem made for each other. Too bad for Kaitaama that it only seems that way, and too bad for her that we leave this place soon, hopefully never to return!

Three hours later, Archer collected T'Pol, and Malcolm and Hoshi happily stumbled over as well, their bellies distended by food, the room spinning slightly due to their prodigious alcohol intake, and they all decided to go to their suite. Now to find Travis.

"Archer to Maywheather," said the captain, fiddling with his comm unit.

"Yes, sir," said Travis.

"Where are you? We're about to head to the palace," said Archer. "You coming with us, or you gonna stay a while longer?"

"If it's all the same, sir, " said Travis, "I'll stay. I've been invited to a great after-party."

"All right," said Archer. "Call if you run into trouble, Travis."

"Yes, sir. Good night."

* * *

The crew soon decided that the Kriosians knew how to do hospitality up right.

"The First Monarch's suite is that way," said one of the stewards designated to see to the Humans, pointing down a large hallway, "and yours is this way. On Krios Prime, it is considered an honor to be given a suite next to the First Monarch."

"We are aware of the honor she does us all," said Archer as the Kriosian led them to their suite.

Suite. It felt more like an entire wing of the palace. Ten bedrooms, large, well lit, beautifully decorated, each with their own sitting room and sumptuous bathroom, on top of the large public spaces shared by this suite. Three large living rooms, one of which was a multi-media dream, a formal and an informal dining room, a fully stocked private kitchen, a wonderful bar full of assorted liquors, a huge hot tub out on the covered patio, next to the swimming pool, itself next to a half dozen tables scattered attractively about the patio, along with some beautiful potted trees and flowers.

They were offered more foods, mixed drinks, massages or live entertainment, but they declined, and one by one, soon headed off to sleep, all save T'Pol. She was out on the patio, at one of the tables, legs folded on her chair as she meditated, and waited… After a while, sometime around 03:00, Ensign Maywheather found his way to the suite, and soon after turned in as well. No sign of Commander Tucker until an hour later, noted T'Pol.

The man entered the suite and saw T'Pol. He pulled some bottled drinks from the bar's refrigerator and joined the Vulcan out on the patio. T'Pol looked up at Commander Tucker as he drew close in order to set her tea down within her reach. She'd just been thinking of brewing some hot tea for the past few minutes, but Commander Tucker's choice of iced tea seemed tempting enough now, and his gesture was appreciated.

"Thank you, Commander Tucker."

Trip, nodded, and said, "You're welcome, SubCommander T'Pol, but why still so formal? We've worked together for a while now, we've faced death together, I like to think we're close, and yet you've never called me Trip."

"It is the Vulcan way, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, then, "but perhaps I might use Trip in private, now and then, just between us?"

"I'd like that, T'Pol," said Trip. "Anyway, what are you doing out here? Why aren't you asleep?"

"I could ask the same of you, Commander Tucker."

"The party just ended for Kaitaama," said Trip.

"I am surprised the First Monarch did not wish to continue the party in private," said T'Pol tartly, before taking a sip of her tea.

Trip smiled, decided to ignore T'Pol's verbal jab, and said, "She has to prepare for another ceremony with the rising sun. The Kriosians set great store by it."

"How unfortunate for you, Commander," said T'Pol, taking note of Commander Tucker's skillful evasion.

"You're in a bad mood tonight, T'Pol," said Trip, with a smile, for even a cross T'Pol was still a lovely T'Pol, and although he was certain he was mistaken in the matter, she was acting jealous of Kaitaama, and the only reason for that would of jealousy would be…

That's bullshit, thought Trip. She's a Vulcan. I'm only setting myself up for heartbreak, when I realize that Vulcans really don't have those kind of feelings.

Still, even the slightest possibility that such a thing could be, a jealous T'Pol, an emotional T'Pol, that possibility was something that made Trip's blood burn and his imagination run wild. Somehow, someway, T'Pol had gotten under his skin since she'd boarded the Enterprise. Yeah, she was sexy as hell, but there was more to it than that. He and T'Pol had clawed their way into a friendship despite a thousand misunderstandings, and now Trip couldn't help but want more. Despite the cool and somewhat distant persona which the SubCommander projected during her hours on duty, she became something entirely different in private, away from prying eyes, something much more overtly feminine, much warmer, much more alluring. It was a thing of lingering glances, soft spoken words, face shyly turned away or lowered in response to Trip's gaze, for likewise, in private, the Chief Engineer's good ol' boy persona sometimes faded, to be replaced by someone as focused as a laser beam, someone focused solely on the SubCommander, and in those moments the Vulcan's heart started beating furiously, and her body trembling. She could not meet the Commander's gaze at those times, out of fear of what he might see revealed in her eyes.

T'Pol had taken a swig of her tea, and wondered again about the Commander's ability to read her moods so clearly.

"You are right, Commander. I am in a bad mood. It has been a long day. I apologize."

"Long day," said Trip. "That's all?"

"What else could it be? It is the most logical reason."

"I noticed you moping around all night," said Trip, bypassing T'Pol's question. "I'd have come to keep you company, but didn't want to start a diplomatic incident by abandoning the First Monarch on the night of her coronation."

"I'm surprised you had eyes for anyone but the First Monarch," said T'Pol, inwardly pleased by the Commander's words.

"Don't be. I always keep my eyes on you, T'Pol," said Trip. "It's the logical thing to do. You tend to get yourself in trouble without my supervision. My close supervision."

The commander's face was solemn, but his eyes were dancing, and there it was, a hint of a smile. He was toying with her.

"You keep forgetting that I am your superior officer, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol. "I supervise you, you do not supervise me."

"Well, you were supervising me tonight, SubCommander, that's for sure," said Trip, after taking a sip of his iced coffee. "I felt your eyes on me all night long, and with all the mirrored surfaces in that reception hall it was easy to take notice of you, watching me like a hawk."

T'Pol came as close to the deer-in-the-headlights look as Trip had ever seen, which for the Vulcan simply meant that her eyes widened and her cheeks and the tips of her ears colored slightly, but she said nothing.

"What's the matter? Did you expect me to commit some kind of a diplomatic faux pas?" said Trip, but that wasn't it, he knew it as soon as he'd said it, for he'd become an expert at reading T'Pol's minimal body language, and that thought brought him back to his earlier supposition. "No, that's not right. But that only leaves…"

"Only leaves what, Commander Tucker?" said T'Pol, her ears burning, which meant that she was blushing madly now, though she was grateful for the low lighting, which would hide her embarrassing loss of control.

"No, that couldn't be it, T'Pol," said Trip. "You're a Vulcan."

"Couldn't be what, Commander Tucker?

"That you're jealous, T'Pol," said Trip, watching the Vulcan's face intently.

"You are mistaken, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, channeling every bit of Vulcan discipline into her response. "Vulcans do not feel jealousy."

For what reason she'd had to call upon that discipline, she was unsure. Surely there was nothing to the Commander's supposition. Surely not.

"In any case, Commander Tucker, of what exactly am I jealous?" said T'Pol, meaning to lead Trip off on a tangent. "Do you believe that I also covet the First Monarch's crown?"

"No, not the crown, T'Pol."

"Then what," said T'Pol, a challenge in her voice.

Trip grinned a silly grin, and said, "You gonna make me say it, T'Pol?"

"You, Commander Tucker?," said T'Pol, heart racing for the commander's words were forcing her to confront herself.

It was one thing to idly wonder if such things were possible, it was quite another to be squarely faced with one's dilemma in the form of the handsome Human, separated from her by an arm's length, a Human asking questions, and expecting answers, and here T'Pol's self-delusions crumbled at last, and logic laid out the bare truth for her edification. She was jealous and she did want Commander Tucker, but after a life time of denying feelings, suppressing feelings and controlling feelings she felt helpless, and took the easy way out, the cowardly way out. She had faced death a dozen times with courage and an air of resigned dignity, yet she could not bare her heart to this man. This new sensation, this honesty with the self where Commander Tucker was concerned was too much, too scary for her to face directly right now. She would retreat for the moment, she would meditate on the matter, and determine upon the proper course of action after a period of reflection on the issue.

"As much as I might wish otherwise, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, "I am afraid that Vulcans simply can not generate such feelings as you might desire."

That was not true at all, for Vulcans sought not so much to eliminate feelings, but rather to modulate them to acceptable levels, given that Vulcan emotions were much more intense, much more likely to run amok and overpower a Vulcan than those same feelings acting on a Human, but the inner lives of Vulcans were not discussed with other species, and so T'Pol's gambit worked to deny Commander Tucker a glimpse into her true nature.

"Ok," said Trip, still watching T'Pol's face closely, though that wasn't easily done in the dimly lit patio, for T'Pol had turned down most of the lights, to ease her meditation. "I guess I was mistaken about that."

T'Pol nodded, conflicted about her lie. The Vulcan was superficially relieved that her words had the desired effect of ending the commander's intimate questions, but beneath that hollow satisfaction, T'Pol was bitterly disappointed in herself, for by lying to Trip she'd only succeeded in digging a deeper hole for herself, one she was far less likely to ever escape if Commander Tucker took her words at face value. I must regroup, thought T'Pol. I am rattled at having faced my delusions, but I can come back from this and set things right.

Meanwhile, his hope crumbled into ashes, Trip's mood turned into something bitter now. He'd had enough for the day. Time to mask his pain, bind his wounds, and get over it, get over T'Pol.

"All right. I'm going to turn in," said Trip, with a yawn. "Good night, T'Pol."

T'Pol nodded, then a moment later, when the Commander had left the patio, she said, "Good night, Trip…"


	4. Chapter 4

**—Chapter 4—**

The next morning Trip woke to find Jon and Travis eating breakfast, while T'Pol was fiddling industriously with something behind the bar.

"So what's up?" said Trip, looking round. "Where's Hoshi? Where's Malcolm?"

"They left at dawn for a whale watching tour," said the captain. "Supposedly Krios Prime's green whales make our blue whales look like guppies."

"Sounds fun," said Trip, speaking to Archer, though his eyes were drawn to the approaching Vulcan.

"Commander," said T'Pol, handing the man a cup of that same Klingon coffee he'd enjoyed the night before.

"Thanks T'Pol," said Trip, then looked at captain Archer. "So what are we doing today?"

"Travis and I, are taking a shuttle flight to the northern ice cap. The First Monarch set it up. We're diving to some of the sunken cities of ancient Krios Prime. They were located on the equator until twenty thousand years ago, when a pole shift altered the axis of the planet and buried the cities under water," said Archer. "T'Pol was supposed to join us, but our fine SubCommander is wimping out on us."

"I am not wimping out on you, Captain," said T'Pol. "I am a creature of a desert planet, and the thought of submerging myself beneath hundreds of feet of water quite logically terrifies me."

Trip laughed, and said, "For once, the SubCommander's words are completely logical."

"For once?" said T'Pol, brow raised, then reached out to take back the cup of coffee she'd handed Trip.

"Sorry, sorry," said Trip, avoiding T'Pol's grasp until she ceased her attempts to steal back his cup. "So what do you want to do today, T'Pol?"

T'Pol frowned, but Archer answered Trip's question.

"Since she's skipping the diving trip, the First Monarch requested that T'Pol speak to her ministers of her experiences with Humans and StarFleet. Krios Prime is considering opening an embassy on Earth."

"That sounds boring," said Trip. "Well, maybe I'll come with you and Travis."

"I'm afraid not," said Archer, with a wicked smile. "The First Monarch means to have you for lunch, apparently."

"Don't say it like that, Captain," said Trip with a smile. "You words frighten me."

Just then, a steward came to inform Archer and Travis that their shuttle had landed, and the two left in a hurry, chattering excitedly. Trip sipped his coffee and looked at T'Pol, for the Vulcan was watching him silently, through her bangs..

"Something on your mind, T'Pol?"

"The First Monarch set something up for everyone but you, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, and although there was nothing concrete in her behavior, she seemed resentful.

"I'm sure you have a point, T'Pol," said Trip.

"She wants to mate with you, Commander Tucker!"

"She's the First Monarch of Krios Prime, T'Pol. She has an image to maintain now," said Trip, privately admitting to himself that T'Pol's words could well be correct. "So I doubt it."

"I do not," said T'Pol. "A First Monarch's personal life is considered above reproach. She can and will do as she desires, at no risk to her image, especially something as understandable as mating with the man who saved her life."

There was that hint of resentment in the T'Pol's tone once again, but Trip dismissed it. He was fool enough to admit to himself that he was strongly drawn to T'Pol, but he'd seen no sign from her that she felt the same. Hell, she'd just denied it the very night before!

"Well, what's the difference? I'm plain unlucky in love," said Trip with a heartfelt sigh that would have brought tears to the eyes of the hardest Klingon warrior, then looked at T'Pol with a rueful grin. "Even when I dare dream of love, I get shot down, because I'm dumb enough to fixate my desires on... on the unattainable."

Before T'Pol could reply, a steward entered the room once again, and said, "Lady T'Pol, the ministers will be seated in ten minutes. Perhaps you might like to make your way to the briefing room?"

T'Pol gave Commander Tucker one last glance, then indicated that the servant should lead the way.

Trip yawned, laid his coffee down and decided to shower and dress. If he was going to hang around with the First Monarch of an entire planet, he should make himself presentable. He took his time in the shower, luxuriating in the hot water and the strong spray of water from a half dozen separate shower nozzles, as well as the orange scented soap which seemed good enough to eat, and when he emerged from the bathroom he felt like a million bucks. He also felt quite startled, though he hid it well, for as he entered his bedroom with a towel wrapped around his hips, he found the First Monarch sitting on his bed, a million dollar smile on her face.

"Good morning, First Monarch," said Trip.

"Commander Tucker," said Kaitaama, pursing her lips now. "It's so good to see you this morning."

"Is it so good that you couldn't bear to wait a few minutes longer, Kaitaama? I'd like to get dressed."

"Don't be cross with me, Commander Tucker. After all, we're good friends. Special friends, Trip," said Kaitaama, flashing a smile again. "Or did you forget our time together?"

"I could never forget," said Trip, and it was true, for their sexual encounter had been exciting and memorable, and as an unexpected bonus, Kaitaama's oh so entitled royal bitchiness had largely evaporated after their intercourse.

So why the hesitation now? thought Trip.

His subconscious flashed images of almond eyes, raised brow, pointed ears, full breasts, long legs and a great ass. Question asked and answered.

Ok, so T'Pol's the reason why I'm hesitating, but she feels nothing for me, can never feel anything for me. She's a Vulcan, after all. What am I going to do, deny myself what pleasures I find in life, for something that can never be?

"That was before you became the First Monarch, Kaitaama. Would you excuse me for a moment? I'd like to get dressed."

"It's all right, Trip. No need to be shy on my account," said Kaitaama, her eyes, and that smile, daring the man to act.

"Fair enough," said Trip.

Without making a production of it, Trip dropped his towel and slipped into his pants, commando style. He looked Kaitaama directly in the eye the entire time in order to repay the First Monarch's cheek with a bit of discomfort, but other than the fact that Kaitaama colored a delightful shade of pink, the First Monarch did not seem troubled by Trip's boldness.

"Oh, Trip," said Kaitaama, delighted. "I'm so glad you're here."

Trip smiled, slipped on his boots and a shirt, and said, "Good for you. Now, what plans do you have for us?"

"I thought you'd enjoy a visit to the Royal Shipyards, Trip," said Kaitaama. "Our finest ships are constructed there, and our technology is more advanced than yours. You should find this day trip fascinating."

"Oh, you're absolutely right, Kaitaama!," said Trip sincerely, for such outings were an engineer's dream. "It sounds fantastic."

"And afterwards we'll return to the palace for a late lunch," said Kaitaama, "before we make plans for the evening with your crew mates."

"Good. Good," said Trip. "I haven't eaten breakfast so I'll be starving by then."

"I'm certain that I'll have a voracious appetite as well," said Kaitaama with a playful glance, "but not for food."

* * *

Hoshi squealed with delight as their boat made a fifth pass around the pod of giant green whales which they'd been following for the past two hours. A large female surfaced close by, her dorsal fin breaching the water, rising, and rising, and still rising, 'till it towered far above the boats, at some forty-eight feet. Hoshi squealed, jumped up and down and pointed out the size of the whale's fin to Malcolm, as if he could possibly miss seeing it. He smiled at that, then laughed and Hoshi threw herself into his arms to hug him, but then of course he had to ruin it by kissing Hoshi deeply. Only Hoshi didn't consider that Malcolm was ruining anything, for she'd been crushing on the man for a while now, and kissed him back eagerly, giant whales all but forgotten for the moment.

* * *

Archer pointed out a twelve foot eel to Travis and the Helmsman nodded appreciatively, wide eyed behind his dive mask, then the diving guide's voice came over the earpiece they'd been provided with, the Kriosian's words translated on the fly by the computer chip built into the mask.

"Let's go down into the city now," said the guide, "but remember, my warning. Do not enter any buildings without me. Do not separate from me. If I lose you down here, the First Monarch will have my hide."

"Affirmative," said Archer into his mask, and Travis gave the Kriosian a thumbs up.

* * *

T'Pol briefing of Kaitaama's ministers had gone well enough, after which she'd lunched with one of the First Monarch's ministers, TeKerren, though she'd been distracted by wondering what Command… the rest of the crew was doing. The Kriosian minister was both, enchanted with T'Pol, and unfamiliar with Vulcans, because he was trying hard to move their conversation onto a more intimate footing, after having lured T'Pol to lunch under the premise of discussing the possible application of Vulcan technology to solve Kriosian problems.

Had he known Vulcans better he would not have bothered. Due to the possibility, however slim in his case, that a psychic Bond would emerge between lovers, Vulcans simply did not indulge in such things as casual sex. A night of fleeting pleasure was not worth waking up next to a troll the following morning, and realizing that you were bound to that troll for the rest of your life, and so for a Vulcan, engaging in sexual intercourse was equivalent to a Human willing to put his life on the line for another, it was essentially saying, I'm all in with you, for the rest of my life. So, sadly for him, poor TeKerren would not achieve his desires for the Lady T'Pol on this day.


	5. Chapter 5

**—Chapter 5—**

"Oh, be careful, Trip," said Kaitaama with real concern for the man's well being, as she helped Trip strip off his shirt.

During their tour of the Royal Shipyards Trip had managed to get himself hurt in preventing a worker from being caught up in one of the vertical presses used to stamp out sheet metal patterns, though the cost for that act had been a nasty blow to his left shoulder by one of the metal arms of the press. Still, it could have been worse for both the Kriosian and the Human, and after a doctor's inspection Trip decided he had no grounds to complain.

"Thanks, Kaitaama," said Trip, as the First Monarch slipped off his shirt.

She'd already helped him into a lightweight pair of cotton shorts, though she'd grabbed a handful of something in the process, then claimed it was an accident with a twinkle in her eyes, and Trip couldn't help but crack up, no matter that Kaitaama's playful hands got away from her, but the laughter caused pain, so Kaitaama stopped.

"Give me that robe please, Kaitaama," said Trip, indicating the thin silk robe which came with his room. "I don't want Hoshi or T'Pol to see the bruise on my back. They'll hustle me off to an infirmary."

It was a nasty bruise, some fourteen inches long, eight wide, all black and blue. Several bones had been fractured as well, and though the Kriosians had the tech to heal them quickly, the pain would remain for days still, until the bones knitted completely.

"Our excursion lasted longer than I'd planned, given what happened with you, and unfortunately I'm committed to a public function for early this evening," said Kaitaama. "It's a religious ceremony, else I'd skip it. I know you're in no shape to attend this event with me."

"No, I'm not, Kaitaama."

"I understand," said the First Monarch. "May I check up on you later tonight?"

"If you're up to it, sure," said Trip.

"All right," said Kaitaama, and leaned towards Trip to kiss him on the lips. "Want to fool around before I leave?"

She was joking, and Trip knew she was joking because he was beat.

He grabbed a handful of Kaitaama's hair, shook her head gently using that hold he had on her, and said, "Listen, I've had about enough of your attitude, you spoiled bitch! Do you understand me?"

Kaitaama laughed, for this was how their first sexual encounter had begun, not all that long ago, when she'd pushed Trip beyond his limits. She'd been stunned then, for no one spoke so to a princess of Krios Prime. I understand, she'd said, then pounced on the man a moment later, which had initiated the best time of her life.

"I understand," said Kaitaama.

"Good," said Trip with a smile upon recalling their last time together, for she'd been sweet, passionate, appreciative and exciting. "Now get out of here, or you'll be late for your thing."

"Yes, Trip," said Kaitaama, and gave the man a peck on the cheek, after he'd released his hold on her.

On the way out, Kaitaama ran into T'Pol. The Vulcan looked up sharply, surprised by the First Monarch's exit from Commander Tucker's bedroom, but an instant later, T'Pol politely offered the First Monarch the ta'al, the Vulcan gesture of greeting with hand raised, fingers split into a V.

"SubCommander T'Pol," said Kaitaama. "How are you?"

"Quite well, First Monarch, thank you."

"Are you enjoying your stay on Krios Prime?"

"Yes, First Monarch," said T'Pol. "You have been very gracious."

"It's nothing," said Kaitaama. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"That is kind of you, First Monarch, but Captain Archer has already recalled our people to the Enterprise, I understand. I imagine we'll be gone in a day or so."

"Minus your Chief Engineer, I hope," said Kaitaama.

T'Pol heart stilled upon hearing that, so she said, "Commander Tucker is staying on Krios Prime? He has told you that?"

"No, but I hope to persuade him to do so," said Kaitaama.

"Commander Tucker has a strong sense of duty to the Enterprise, First Monarch," said T'Pol, feeling marginally better now. "I doubt he will agree to abandon ship."

"I have already contacted StarFleet in order to discuss building a StarBase in our sector," said Kaitaama. "Such discussions can proceed only on the basis that Commander Tucker remains on Krios Prime, in order to answer our technical questions, and building such a base would take years, SubCommander."

"What Kaitaama wants, Kaitaama gets," said T'Pol, a hard look in her eyes. "Is that it?"

"Essentially, SubCommander," said Kaitaama, studying the Vulcan's face closely. "I mean to have Commander Tucker for my consort. It would be ill advised for anyone to stand in my way. I always win, SubCommander. Always."

"As you say, First Monarch," said T'Pol. "Well, do not let me detain you any longer. It was kind of you to speak with me."

"It was my pleasure, SubCommander," said Kaitaama. "In any case, I'll see you later tonight."

"Oh?"

"I promised to tuck Trip into bed, after I attend a function," said Kaitaama.

"How nice for the Commander, First Monarch," said T'Pol graciously, but feeling anything but. "Until later then."

Kaitaama gave a royal nod and made a stately procession from the room, a look of satisfaction on her face, and a smile on her lips, for she now had SubCommander T'Pol's secret. It was a matter of intuition.

* * *

Some ten minutes after Kaitaama's departure, Commander Tucker came out of his bedroom in a nicely fitting pair of shorts and a silk robe left open, which would have seemed like unfair provocation to T'Pol at any other time but now, for her conversation with Kaitaama had left a bitter taste in her mouth. Trip gave T'Pol a nod and headed for the kitchen without addressing her. Although the palace cooks and caterers serviced their needs, the suite had a kitchen in case some of the guests liked to cook, and cared to cook for their fellow guests. In addition to offering an abundance of prepped raw foods, prepared meals were available as well, in case an impulsive hunger struck a guest. T'Pol struggled with herself for a few minutes as she watched the man move around the kitchen through a large pass through window. She was tempted to simply ignore the commander, but truthfully, she was spoiling for a fight now, goaded by the slightest bit of jealousy and so she followed the commander into the kitchen.

While T'Pol had deliberated, Trip had pulled a fixed plate out of the cooler at random, and popped it under the plate warmer, and by the time T'Pol had joined him in the kitchen, the commander had taken a seat and was curiously examining his prize. He looked up at T'Pol as she entered the kitchen, and the Vulcan waited for him to speak, but the commander disappointed her in that respect, in addition to the disappointment she'd felt when she'd seen Kaitaama exit his bedroom. The two had obviously had sexual congress, judging by Kaitaama's insufferable air of satisfaction.

"Are you proud of yourself, Commander Tucker?" said T'Pol archly, unwilling to wait a moment longer for the commander find the decency to address her.

"Always," said Trip, then took up his cutlery to begin eating.

T'Pol breathed in deeply. Vulcans did not get angry, but if they did, T'Pol would be steaming by now, for Commander Tucker seemed more interested in the contents of his plate than holding civilized discourse with his mat... with his SubCommander!

Trip made an appreciative noise as he discovered that the large rectangular piece of fried food was a white fish steak, delightfully seasoned and perfectly cooked within a still crispy fried shell of some type of golden flour and beer batter. He then moved onto the palm sized, two inch thick disk that tasted like crab cake drizzled with sweet chilli sauce, then to what looked like some type of large, flat headed prawns, grilled to perfection and all that resting gently on a bed of colored rice, a royal blue. Trip knew the color was genuine, for he'd eaten the rice and asked about the color, the night before, during their shared meal with Kaitaama. It was a long grained Risan variety, which had found favor on Krios Prime due to its dramatic color, which made for a stunning presentation of the foods layered atop the rice.

T'Pol watched the man inspecting his food with maddening pleasure, and it was only the discipline instilled in her by a lifetime of training which kept T'Pol from tapping her feet impatiently, waiting for the commander's attention. Finally, she'd had enough.

"Do me the courtesy of looking at me when I am speaking to you, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol.

Trip raised his eyes as he chewed his food slowly, and looked at T'Pol with a particularly infuriating look he had long since mastered, a look which combined insolence, skepticism and boredom in equal measure, a look calculated to drive her mad. It would work too, if she were not a Vulcan!

"Very good, Commander Tucker!" said T'Pol. "Now try answering my questions."

"What questions, T'Pol?" said Trip. "I have no idea what you want to hear."

"I am quite certain that you do, Commander Tucker."

"Look, T'Pol, personal scourge of mine, tell me what you want," said Trip, cheeks flushed now. "I know you don't want me, you've made that abundantly clear, but what DO you want?"

"I want you to control yourself where other females are concerned, or you will drive me mad, I swear, Comman—"

"Careful, T'Pol," said Trip. "You're getting emotional."

T'Pol breathed in, composed herself at the commander's words, stunned in turn by the words which had poured out of her own mouth. She was not even upset with the man now about Kaitaama, for he was absolutely right. He had reached out to her and made his intentions clear, given her a chance to respond with her genuine feelings, and instead she had responded with deception. Her actions had been truly illogical, if somewhat understandable.

"You are quite right, Commander Tucker. If you will excuse me now, I should meditate before the others return."

Logic warred with emotion in T'Pol for the better part of two hours, a passionless detachment cultured through discipline, a method of facing the ancient Vulcan nature of passions so consuming they were like ravenous beasts if not controlled, and when her meditation ended, T'Pol knew that nothing had been resolved, could not be resolved until there was a resolution between her feelings for Commander Tucker and logic, for logic demanded that she speak her heart to the commander. What she had managed to do through meditation though, was to buy some time.

* * *

By the time T'Pol returned to the social areas of their suite, captain Archer and Travis had returned, and were keeping Trip company at the kitchen table. Archer and Travis looked up cheerfully, describing their underwater adventures and T'Pol joined them, leaning against a counter and pretending to listen, though she spent most of her time surreptitiously studying Commander Tucker. The man was watching T'Pol as well, though openly, and they made eye contact constantly, though what passed between them, neither was certain. Before long, Malcolm and Hoshi entered the kitchen, sunburned, but seemingly happy, and that's when things took an unexpected turn. Malcolm was passing some beers among the seated crew, when he leaned on Commander Tucker, and the man screamed, a blood curdling scream of pain, and rage. Everyone froze and looked at Trip as if he were a lunatic.

"Jesus," said Malcolm. "I'm sorry Trip. What did I do?"

"Don't worry about it, Malcolm," said Trip a moment later, pain barely controlled. "It's nothing."

"It's something, Trip," said Malcolm, worried now, for Trip was his best friend.

"Commander Tucker, what is wrong with you?" said T'Pol, who had jumped instantly to the man's side, and even a dolt would have recognized the concern in her eyes.

"Just leave me alone, all of you," said Trip, trying to control his pain. "Get back to the story."

"Trip," said Archer in the no nonsense tone he must have mastered before they'd tossed him the keys to the Enterprise, "what the fuck's wrong with you?"

Trip realized they weren't going to let it go, so gave them an abbreviated story of his accident. T'Pol insisted on looking at the wound, and the crew gathered round Trip.

"Doctor Phlox should look at that," said Hoshi, concerned now.

"I agree," said T'Pol.

"No, it's all right," said Trip. "A doctor's already looked at it. Knitted the bones and did what he could for muscle. I'll be fine in a week or two."

"Come to my bedroom," said T'Pol. "I have some training in neuro-pressure which may aid your recovery, but I need a quiet place to work properly."

"I said I'm fine, SubComm—"

"That is an order, Commander Tucker. Get up!" said T'Pol, her voice inflexible as she looked at Archer, and something passed between her and the captain.

"I second that order, Trip," said Archer. "Go. Now."

Trip rolled his eyes and stood slowly, in order to follow T'Pol into her bedroom.


	6. Chapter 6

**—Chapter 6: Timeline #1—**

"Where do you want me," said Trip, once in T'Pol's bedroom.

"Climb on the bed," said T'Pol. "We will begin with you in a seated position, but we may move to a prone position in the course of your treatment."

"So you finally admit that you want me in your bed, SubCommander?" said Trip. "I applaud your honesty. About damned time too!"

"Even in pain, you are still a fool, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol.

"I've got to be me, baby," said Trip.

"Well," said T'Pol, "that is unfortunate for you. Now, take off that robe, and come, sit here, Commander Tucker."

A moment later, Trip crawled atop T'Pol's mattress, and seated himself comfortably, legs crossed, waiting on T'Pol to begin. She knelt behind the commander, which evened out their height and placed her in the proper position, relative to Trip, to do her work. She'd actually offered neuro-pressure treatment to Commander Tucker not long ago, when he'd complained of losing a night's sleep due to her aggravation, though she'd had an ulterior motive on that day.

She'd longed to touch Commander Tucker at length for some time now, and that was not something she could bring herself to do under normal circumstances, Vulcan cultural mores being what they were, since she and Commander Tucker were technically just colleagues. There was a reason for those mores though, for Vulcans had a number of psionic talents as a species, and touch telepathy was one of those talents. Naturally, such gifts were spread through the population in varying degrees, and T'Pol herself was never more than barely mediocre at the talent, most likely as an extension of her unease in social situations. That unease had diminished somewhat as she'd matured, and she'd also gotten better at masking that unease, but that did not alter root causes or effects, and the effect on T'Pol was that her touch telepathy worked best with people she was emotionally close to, and even then, it took her a while to create the link. With her father, with whom she'd been especially close, it took ten minutes or so. With her mother, a bit longer, since their relation had often been strained. Recently though, T'Pol had begun to wonder how long it would take to link with Commander Tucker, and what that link would tell her about the man. Now that the time was finally here, and she had a plausible reason to touch the Commander at length, she was nervous. As it turned out, she was right to feel so.

Almost as soon as she laid hands on Commander Tucker and began working on his flesh, she began picking up mental artifacts from the man. She felt the pain he labored under from his wound, and it was worse than he'd led them to believe. She felt his tension where her hands touched him, and she knew that tension was there BECAUSE she was the one who touched him. She picked up her scent through his olfactory senses, and she sensed the pleasure the Commander took from that scent. She felt his arousal at her presence, only partially acknowledged now for she could also feel his recent hurt from when she'd seemingly rejected him, and layered above that hurt, she felt his utter surprise at the words she'd recently spoken: "I want you to control yourself where other females are concerned, or you will drive me mad, I swear!"

Well, his surprise was understandable. She'd been stunned by those words herself, but she had not realized at the time, that the commander had realized their importance. This though, this instant telepathic connection between her and the commander was more shocking still. She'd been given to understand that this was possible only among Bonded couples, so that did not explain how..."

Hasha's blood, it can not be! thought T'Pol. But what else makes sense?! But how?!

The Bond between mated couples was usually sparked while the two were children by Vulcan mind-priests, once their respective families had decided a future match would be agreeable, and the Bond was supposed to grow through their lives, until it was given full license and awareness through the ancient Vulcan marriage rituals. Even the rare examples of Vulcans who had been bound to each other unexpectedly had that genesis in an ill advised sexual encounter, yet she and the commander had not indulged in any such acts. Never, though she'd occasionally fantasized of it. Well, perhaps more than occasionally. Perhaps almost every night before falling asleep, since the day she'd met the man: there was a reason she'd refused to shake his hand during their initial meeting.

T'Pol's hands worked seemingly of their own accord, despite her confusion, bringing welcome relief to the commander, along with the essence of T'Pol's thoughts and feelings, for their minds were resonating together now, each feeding off the thought forms of the other, in the same manner that two rocks thrown at opposite ends of a small pond would cause their joint ripples to converge in the middle.

As much as I might wish it, T'Pol had said to him recently, a Vulcan can not generate such emotions. Such bullshit!, thought Trip, but he also picked up the reasons for T'Pol's deception, felt her fear, tasted her bitter disappointment in herself for her cowardice, and with understanding came forgiveness. Only then did it occur to Trip to wonder how it was that he was perceiving T'Pol's essence. Amazement warred with excitement in Trip's mind and those feelings fed into their shared resonance.

He knows!, thought T'Pol, and there was no need to wonder how. Bondmates shared everything. So it was true, and it was now unbreakable, save by death, and even then, the living would soon after follow the dead into the grave, for life needed sun and water both to continue. T'Pol's hands stopped moving, and the Vulcan wrapped her hands around Trip's waist and laid her head onto his back, eyes closed, savoring his closeness and the sound of his heartbeat, as the Bond between them grew ever tighter. How long that moment lasted, neither knew, but they knew when the process was complete. T'Pol raised her head off her mate's back, and Trip turned to face her, a hard grin on his face. T'Pol slid away from Trip until her back touched the wall, for she knew that her deception was on her mate's mind as he looked at her, and the strength of his emotions was unexpected.

—Oh, T'Pol, you've got some making up to do.

Trip's thoughts had arrived telepathically through the Bond to T'Pol's mind and her eyes widened at how clear the sending.

—I know, she replied in the same manner, then looked warily at her mate, who was drawing closer.

She was a good match for her mate in many ways, but emotions and sensuality were his domain, and T'Pol was unsure of herself here, but then she felt her mate's lips on hers and she melted into him.

* * *

"They've been in there for what, three hours now," said Malcolm. "Should we go check on them? Make sure Trip's ok?"

"I could go ask," said Hoshi.

"I'll do it," said Archer, and a few moment later, knocked politely on T'Pol's bedroom door. "Everything ok, T'Pol?"

T'Pol pulled back from Trip's embrace, and the two looked at each other, Trip smiling like a fool.

"I will be right out to speak to you, Captain," said T'Pol.

"All right," said Archer, and he returned to the kitchen.

"Hurry back," said Trip.

Though he was in no shape to take things any further than kissing this night, kissing was more than enough, and he wanted more of it. T'Pol caressed Trip's ear, kissed his lips, caressed his neck, and then without further delay, pinched the commander expertly at the base where neck met shoulder muscles, to render the man quickly unconscious, though she'd sensed Trip's outrage through the Bond in the fraction of a second, before he passed out. T'Pol looked down at her mate, satisfied. Her extensive neuro-pressure training had given her the option to render her mate unconscious, and the particular node she'd pressed would ensure that he would be out of it for the next twelve hours or so. She stole a last kiss from the commander, then stood and adjusted her clothing. It was time to handle some business.

* * *

As T'Pol entered the kitchen once more, three faces turned to her, waiting for a report on Trip's health.

"Has Ensign Maywheather returned yet?" said T'Pol, as she took a seat at the table.

"He's back aboard the Enterprise, with the rest of the crew, save the five of us," said Archer, sensing that something was up with T'Pol. "Now, what's up?"

"Do you trust me, Captain?" said T'Pol.

"It's not like you to ask dumb questions, T'Pol," said Archer. "Yes, I trust you."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "We need to transport Commander Tucker back aboard the Enterprise, now. You, Captain, as well as Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato will return with him. I will stay behind for a bit, and Lieutenant Reed will transport me back aboard the Enterprise on my mark."

"What's going on, T'Pol?" said Archer.

"You said you trusted me, Captain."

"I do," said Archer. "That doesn't mean an explanation is not warranted."

"Can the explanation wait until later, at least?" said T'Pol.

"All right," said Archer. "Trip is fine though?"

"Yes, Captain. I've administered a light sedative which should keep him comfortably asleep for twelve hours or so, but he's fine."

"Ok, let me offer my thanks to the First Monarch," said Archer, "and we'll go."

"Please allow me to do so, Captain, on your behalf."

Archer wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but he was clearly suspicious.

"You will not create a diplomatic incident?"

"Of course not, Captain," said T'Pol. "To do so would be illogical."

"Right,"said Archer, then looked at Hoshi and Malcolm. "You two, back aboard the Enterprise, now. Hoshi, once aboard the Enterprise, have Trip beamed up and see that he's delivered to SickBay. I know he's seen a doctor, but I want Phlox to take a look at him, just the same. He's a hell of a doctor."

"Yes, sir," said Hoshi.

"Malcolm, I want you standing by at the transporter, waiting for T'Pol's mark."

"Yes, sir," said Lieutenant Reed.

"All right," said Archer. "Hoshi, take T'Pol's bag along with yours. Malcolm, take Trip's bag. Let's move."

The Ensign and the Lieutenant moved, and within ten minutes Archer and T'Pol were alone, and Malcolm's voice came over the captain's comm unit.

"Ready to beam you aboard, Captain."

"I hope you know what you're doing, T'Pol," said Archer.

"I do," said T'Pol, poised as ever.

"All right," said Archer, then smiled, for he'd narrowed down the possibilities given the ever increasingly intimate conduct he'd observed between his Chief Engineer and T'Pol, and said, "Give Kaitaama hell, T'Pol, but do it politely. Create a diplomatic incident, and I'll suffocate Trip with his pillow, in order to punish you."

T'Pol merely nodded in response, and the captain said, "Energize."

* * *

Kaitaama entered the quest suite assigned to the Enterprise's crew to find it unusually quiet. Well, it was late. Nevertheless, she intended to comfort Trip if he was still awake, or slip naked into bed with him if he was asleep, and that thought pleased the First Monarch, so it came as an unpleasant surprise to find the Vulcan, T'Pol, seated on Trip's bed in a meditative position. Kaitaama was about to speak, when the Vulcan opened her eyes.

"Ah, First Monarch," said T'Pol, "how was your night?"

"What are you doing in here, T'Pol?" said Kaitaama, a dangerous edge to her voice.

"I was waiting for you, First Monarch," said T'Pol, and if she was insulted by Kaitaama's tone, she did not show it.

"Where's Trip?" said Kaitaama.

"I am the last of the crew left on Krios Prime, First Monarch. On behalf of our crew and Captain Archer, I wished to extend to you our deepest gratitude for your hospitality."

"I don't believe you," said Kaitaama. "You're lying. Trip wouldn't leave Krios Prime without saying goodbye to me."

"I suspect you are right, First Monarch," said T'Pol. "However, I sedated the commander and had him transported to the Enterprise. By the time he wakes, we will be long gone from Krios Prime."

Kaitaama reached for her comm unit, but T'Pol said, "Do not waste your time contacting your ships with orders to board the Enterprise. They will take twelve point three minutes to react, and that is their theoretical best time. Actual reaction times are usually double that, or more."

"StarFleet will send him back," said Kaitaama, furious now, "if they want a StarBase in this sector!"

"Doubtful," said T'Pol. "StarFleet is just dreaming here. I estimate they will not be in a position to expand their operations to this sector for another seven years, at best."

Kaitaama was fuming now, and her anger only made a beautiful face, lovelier still, which was an odd thing, thought T'Pol.

"Lieutenant Reed, energize in five seconds," said T'Pol.

"Yes, sir," said Lieutenant Reed.

"I know you want him, Vulcan," said Kaitaama. "Do you honestly believe that he'll choose you, over me, when he wakes?"

T'Pol looked at Kaitaama, and the First Monarch was surprised to see a slight smile on the Vulcan's face, before she said, "He already did, First Monarch."

Kaitaama looked down, wondering if T'Pol spoke truth. She knew better than to believe that Vulcans could not tell a lie, but she knew that they did not lie often.

"Kaitaama," said T'Pol, recalling how adamantly Kaitaama had warned her not to interfere with the First Monarch's plans for Trip, for the First Monarch would always win.

The First Monarch's eyes darted to T'Pol's.

"I win," said T'Pol.

The Vulcan's form glittered and sparkled briefly as the transporter's beam acted upon her, and two seconds later, the First Monarch found herself alone in the guest suite.

* * *

Trip woke to find himself in SickBay, and the events of the past few days rushed back to his consciousness, the last of which was T'Pol sending him tumbling into unconsciousness with that damned neck pinch! Damn her, there was no call to do that to him!

"Ah, Commander," said Doctor Phlox, with his usual good humor. "It's good to have you back in the land of the living."

"Thanks, Doc," said Trip, rising off his bed, and spinning round to face the Denobulan. "Hey, I feel much better. What did you do to me?"

"Trade secret, Commander Tucker," said Phlox, "but I can introduce you to the creatures responsible for your improvement."

"God no," said Trip, for the doctor's gruesome menagerie was a constant ship wide topic of discussion. "Thank you though. I don't know what I'd do without you. Hell, I'd probably be dead by now."

"Nonsense," said Phlox, though he laughed heartily at that, for Commander Tucker had long made a habit of showing up in his SickBay in medical distress.

Trip stood, stretched, groaned, moaned and yawned, and said, "What time is it?"

"19:00 by ship's time, Commander,"said Phlox. "You woke briefly this morning, but I sedated you so that my pets could do their work on you, uninterrupted."

"I'm going to my quarters, Doc, take a hot shower. Thanks again for everything."

"You're off duty for tonight and all day tomorrow, Commander," said Phlox, "and restricted to light duty for the next ten days. If I hear you've even stepped foot in the Engine Room tomorrow, I'll have you sidelined for a month. Don't cross me."

"I know better than that, Doc," said Trip, truthfully, for Phlox was a ruthless tyrant in service of his patient's health. "Hey, since I'm off tomorrow, let me cook lunch for you."

"I'd like that, Commander," said Phlox, for Commander Tucker was an accomplished cook, and he loved Trip's Southern cooking. "What's on the menu?"

"Trade secret," said Trip. "Just show up at high noon, with a bib on."

"Will do," said Phlox.

Phlox waited twenty minutes in order to give the commander time to enjoy his shower in peace, then activated the comm unit from a wall console.

"I've released Commander Tucker from my care," said Phlox in hushed, conspiratorial tones, though he was all alone in SickBay. "I suspect you'll find him in his quarters."

* * *

Trip had showered, shaved and slipped into his pajama bottoms before the door's chime announced he had a visitor.

"Who is it?" said Trip.

The ship's computer had thousands of subroutines, and a small number of them were dedicated to tasks such as answering mundane questions.

"SubCommander T'Pol," said the computer.

"Ignore," said Trip, and the computer system deactivated the chime for any of T'Pol's following activations, for the next two hours.

If Trip had thought that would be the end of it, he was mistaken. T'Pol used her rank to override the door's security settings in order to enter the commander's quarters.

"Get out!" yelled Trip, despite thinking how cute T'Pol looked in the silk kimono and Hello Kitty bedroom slippers he'd gifted her for her last birthday.

"Commander," said T'Pol, hands up in a manner meant to pacify him. "listen to me, I beg of—"

"I said get out! What did you do to me with that neck pinch, T'Pol? I'll tell you what you did! You knocked my ass out and hustled me off Krios Prime like a sack of potatoes!"

T'Pol actually smiled at that, brief as it was, slight as it was, then she said, "I can explain, Commander Tucker!"

"Oh you can?" said Trip. "Well, I'd love to hear your explanation, T'Pol!"

"Do you mind if I come inside," said T'Pol, "and close the door?"

Trip growled and said, "Fine!"

T'Pol stepped inside, and found Trip sitting on his bunk.

"Take the chair," said Trip, indicating the desk chair spun to face the bunk, "and explain. And do it quickly."

T'Pol stripped off her kimono to reveal her favorite pajamas, and his, for her chosen outfit highlighted her figure.

Oh, she's good! thought Trip. She knows just which buttons to push! Too bad it won't save her candy ass tonight!

"Before we begin," said T'Pol, "just let me look at your shoulder, quickly, Trip. I will not be able to concentrate otherwise."

"Make it quick!"

T'Pol crawled into Trip's bunk and briefly inspected his shoulder, caressing his back in the process, after which she leaned in to nibble on his left ear.

"T'Pol!"

The Vulcan ignored the displeasure in the commander's voice, and began slowly kissing the back of Trip's neck, which he endured stoically, willfully ignoring the pleasure his mate was giving him.

"You let me know when you're ready to begin with your explanation, T'Pol," said Trip.

T'Pol murmured her agreement, and kept right on kissing. She made one tactical mistake early on, for she touched Trip's neck, and the man flinched.

"If you put me down for a nap again, I swear I'll kill you when I wake, T'Pol!"

"Shhhh," said T'Pol, and kept right on kissing, nibbling, and caressing, until twenty minutes had passed and she'd felt Trip's tension had evaporated.

"Trip," she finally said, and the commander turned to face T'Pol. "I am sorry that I upset you, but I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"That you would want to remain on Krios Prime with Kaitaama," said T'Pol, "or perhaps that Kaitaama would be persuasive enough to convince you to stay with her."

"Really? Even given this thing between us?"

"Even more so because of it, Trip. I was not completely rational. You are my mate and I feared losing you!"

"Then you're a fool, T'Pol."

"A fool in love," said T'Pol, using a phrase she'd heard on Earth, a phrase which described her situation accurately.

"Well you're about to have a chance to prove it," said Trip, and the images in his mind, a sort of running commentary of his thoughts and intentions, were communicated clearly to T'Pol through the Bond.

"Trip," she said, cupping his face in her hands, "we can talk about it later if you like, but due to the influence of the Bond, most Vulcans, male and female alike, are virgins until they Bond with their mate."

"I know," said Trip with a perverted grin on his face. "I felt your concerns through the Bond."

"Oh," said T'Pol, still getting used to the workings of the Bond. "And this does not disturb you?"

"Why would it disturb me? I look forward to plundering your goodies at my leisure, T'Pol. I'm off duty tomorrow, so I suggest you call in sick, and I suggest we get busy."

"Very well, but you do not have to wait until then," said T'Pol, for Trip's intentions were getting her excited, and fear and insecurity were melting away quite rapidly. "You can start plundering now. If you want to, I mean."

Unfortunately, Commander Tucker took her at her word, and calloused hands gripped her pajama top by the lapels, tugging each sharply in a divergent direction. The silk was too strong to tear, but the string holding her buttons was cotton, much weaker.

"My buttons, Commander!"

Six months ago Trip had come across some rough pieces of Lapis Lazuli, a semi-precious stone renowned for its rich azure blue color, generally streaked with flecks of gold. Trip had bought them all and machined the pieces into four big beautiful buttons which T'Pol had promptly sewn on her favorite silk pajamas, and a small incense holder shaped as a turtle for use in T'Pol's meditation. She loved them all, and treasured them all, and the thought that some of the buttons might be lost, or damaged, distressed T'Pol to no end.

"Forget your buttons, T'Pol! These are the most magnificent breasts I've ever seen!"

"Truly, Commander?" said T'Pol, certain that Trip was putting her on.

"Oh yes, T'Pol."

"That's good, but it will just take me a moment to collect my buttons, Commander," said T'Pol, then stilled herself, for Commander Tucker had lowered his head to her breasts and began doing the most delightful things to a pair of appendages the Vulcan had considered purely functional until now.

Minutes passed, yet the commander seemed in no hurry to move along, and T'Pol's breathing grew labored, before the commander finally moved on, to strip her bottoms from her.

"Now don't tear these off, Commander!"

Trip slipped off T'Pol's pajamas, and grabbed hold of T'Pol's left leg. He kissed the ankle, nibbled on her calf, and then kissed the foot, and to that T'Pol reacted strongly. There it was! He did it again and T'Pol laughed, not the subtle reactions which were the norm for her, but a full throated laugh.

"Stop! Stop!" said T'Pol, but Trip just popped her toes into his mouth, and that pushed T'Pol over the edge.

"Please stop, Trip," said T'Pol, her body wracked by laughter. "You're not doing this right, Commander. I think our genitals are supposed to line up. I thought you knew what you were doing!"

"I do," said Trip, "but first you pay the price for your neck pinch!"

"Oh, please stop," said T'Pol, hands holding her waist. "My tummy hurts!"

"Just control your emotions, T'Pol," said Trip, taunting T'Pol, "and the laughter will cease."

"I can not, Commander! I am ticklish. It is a physiological response!"

"Too bad, T'Pol," said Trip and continued working her over, until he judged that she could not endure it any longer.

T'Pol was panting now, in between bursts of laughter, eyes tearing up madly, coughing frequently.

"You are a beast, Commander Tucker!"

"Have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes, Commander!"

"Will you ever pinch me like that again?"

"No, Commander!"

"All right, I believe you," said Trip, and stopped his tickling, "but it's good to know your Kryptonite."

"I do not understand your meaning, Trip," said T'Pol, turning over to partially cover her mate's body with her's, still panting madly.

"Never mind, T'Pol," said Trip, his lips tasting her's, his hands gliding over silky skin as he began exploring his mate's body.

* * *

* ***** * **The story on this particular time line ends here.**


	7. Chapter 7

This chapter, and the chapters following are an alternate ending. This timeline picks up directly from chapter 5 – there is no chapter 6 in this timeline.

 **—Chapter 7: Timeline #2—**

T'Pol returned to the kitchen after her neuro-pressure session with Commander Tucker, to find that Ensign Maywheather had returned to the suite, with an enviable bag of Kriosian candy, which he'd dumped out in the middle of the table, and the four humans were speedily stuffing their faces with candy as they traded stories about their adventures on Krios Prime.

"Candy, SubCommander?" said Travis.

"Thank you, Ensign," said T'Pol.

She grabbed a white chocolate bar with what smelled like roasted espresso beans blended into the chocolate, and took a sensible bite from it, before pocketing the rest. Unlike Commander Tucker, she was capable of exherting discipline, where sugar cravings were concerned.

"How is he, T'Pol?" said Archer.

"He is in some measure of discomfort, Captain, but he will be back to normal soon enough, just as the Kriosian doctor has predicted," said T'Pol.

"All right," said Archer, then looked up as Trip came back into the kitchen, to take back his seat.

"I hear you're gonna live, Trip," said Malcolm.

"That's encouraging. Hey, Travis," said Trip, as he began rooting through the candy mountain.

"I hear you got banged up, sir," said Travis.

"Ugh, forget about it," said Trip, taking a huge chomp out of a fist sized sweet.

"That's one of my favorites," said Travis, looking at Trip.

"It's good," said Trip. "What is it?"

"A sweet black bean paste stuffed inside a crispy shell," said Travis, "then rolled in sweetened shredded coconut, then rolled once last time in a caramel sauce."

"We need to take a crate of these with us when we leave Krios Prime," said Trip. "Maybe Chef could duplicate them as well, for us."

"That would be nice," said Travis, and Hoshi, tempted by all the chatter about this particular item, picked one out for herself.

"While you were in there with Trip, T'Pol," said Archer, "a certain Kopek called for you. He asks that you visit the Vulcan Embassy tonight, at 21:00."

"Understood, Captain," said T'Pol.

"I've been invited to dine with some members of Krios' Royal Navy," said Archer, "so you guys are on your own. Just don't burn Krios down."

* * *

"Please sit, T'Pol," said Kopek, at the appointed time. "What would you like to drink?"

"Tea seems agreeable to me, Kopek," said T'Pol.

"Sit then, T'Pol."

T'Pol sat, and shortly Kopek brought over a pot of tea, and a bowl of dried apricots.

"It is a Kriosian custom," said Kopek. "You place an apricot in your mouth, as you sip lekia tea. The two tastes complement each other quite nicely, and when the apricot is saturated, you eat it, and replace it with another."

T'Pol followed Kopek's suggestion, and found the taste quite pleasant. She made an appreciative noise, looked at Kopek and raised a brow.

"You have become something of an expert on Humans, T'Pol," said Kopek. "Soval and a few of the Embassy staff on Earth might say the same, but even they do not work as closely with Humans, as you."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "And so, Kopek?"

"The High Command asked me to report on the Enterprise's visit to Krios Prime. They seem to believe that these Humans are moving too fast in establishing ties with other species."

"They have always felt that way, Kopek," said T'Pol.

"Indeed, and rightly so," said Kopek. "The Enterprise has already had some contact with Klingons, Tellarites, Andorians, Suliban, Risans and now Kriosians."

T'Pol nodded, and said, "What exactly does the High Command find troubling about this visit, Kopek?"

"Our Ambassador has heard that Kaitaama has rendered an invitation to StarFleet to build a StarBase in this sector. The Humans are not ready for such a big step, T'Pol."

"Kaitaama's offer is motivated by personal factors," said T'Pol, after taking a sip of tea.

"Oh?" said Kopek. "I have not heard that. Elaborate."

"Kaitaama is attracted to the Enterprise's Chief Engineer, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, showing no feelings on the matter.

"Ah," said Kopek, "that is surprising."

"Not to me, Kopek. Commander Tucker is an impressive individual," said T'Pol, popping another dried apricot in her mouth. "He is also the man responsible for saving the First Monarch, not long ago."

"I see."

"Perhaps you should tell me what troubles the High Command," said T'Pol. "It seems logical that Earth desires to have a StarBase in this region. It will mostly be a glorified repair depot for Human ships, at least initially, and even that would take 5 – 10 years to construct, depending on how many resources Earth is willing to put toward such a venture, so far away from home."

"Yes," said Kopek, "but the High Command is concerned by the sensitive location of Krios Prime."

T'Pol nodded her understanding. Krios Prime was located at something of a crossroads, a relatively short distance away from the Eastern Border of the Klingon Empire, and more.

"The Humans do not understand the rules, T'Pol," said Kopek. "They make the wrong move, anger the Klingons, and a Klingon fleet will be on the way to Earth, and then Vulcan will have to decide whether to risk ships and men, defending these people."

"I see," said T'Pol, "but we have no obligation to stand with them yet. They have largely ignored our advice, and rightly so, so I doub—"

"Rightly so?" said Kopek, fishing for an apricot.

"They have free will, Kopek," said T'Pol. "If they wish to go off on their own, well, that is their right."

"Yes," said Kopek, "I suppose so, but it is not wise."

"There is more, Kopek. If you want my help, you should share you thoughts freely with me."

"There is the matter of our cousins, T'Pol," said Kopek.

"The Rihansu," said T'Pol, thoughtful, thinking of the Sundering.

Some 1,800 years earlier, the Vulcan people had been split by the coming of Surak, and his message of logic as a guiding force in Vulcan life. The majority of Vulcans had adopted the message for their own, but a sizable number were disgusted by it all: the message, the messenger and the weaklings who accepted that cowardly message. In disgust they gathered in number, built ships and left Vulcan forever with curses on their lips, in search of a place where the true Vulcan way would rule their lives.

Since then, the Vulcans had watched carefully and discreetly the progress of the Rihansu, always with a vague sense of unease, for they were well aware that the old Vulcan ways demanded vengeance against a betrayer, and the Rihansu considered all Vulcans betrayers, for abandoning their heritage. Many Vulcans felt that it was only a matter of time, until the battle between them would be joined.

"I do not believe the Rihansu care what Humans do, Kopek," said T'Pol.

"Of that I am certain, T'Pol," said Kopek, "but if the Klingons and Humans war, and we get involved on the Human side, they may see an opening, too tempting to pass by, to strike at us, while we are occupied."

"A possibility," said T'Pol. "What else? The chance that the Humans will antagonize either Klingon or Romulan enough to war, is very slight."

Kopek sighed, and said, "The Humans seem to have a knack for getting along with other species, noticeably more so than Vulcans, T'Pol, despite our greater experience. We've discussed the matter with Earth's government, and we hope to build something of a coalition, for trade and for mutual defense, among the species of our own sector, and those nearby."

"And this StarBase in the Kriosian space is…" said T'Pol.

"Is a problem, T'Pol," said Kopek. "We need time build this coalition, and we do not want to draw attention to it, by the construction of a StarBase in vicinity of Krios Prime, but StarFleet is chomping at the bit to explore this option, while EarthGov is content to follow our advice in this particular matter. With frequent Human/Kriosian contact, as well as Human exploration in this region, such diplomatic moves towards building a coalition, will draw the attention of both Klingon and Romulan. They can not afford to ignore the creation of another power to match their empires."

"I suppose you are right, Kopek," said T'Pol. "So why am I here?

"I have orders for you, T'Pol," said Kopek. "Verbal orders."

T'Pol nodded. It had been a while since she'd worked in this manner, but verbal orders meant that the High Command wanted plausible deniability, and it also meant that she was expendable, if she screwed up badly enough. On the other hand, if she succeeded, the High Command would back any play she made. High risk, high reward.

"What are my orders?" said T'Pol.

"You are to break up these plans for a StarFleet StarBase in this region, T'Pol," said Kopek. "In any way possible, short of killing the First Monarch."

"I understand," said T'Pol.

Kopek noted that T'Pol was thinking and so he remained quiet, giving her the time she needed.

"Inventory?" said T'Pol, a question of what equipment she'd have available, if needed.

"Any type of surveillance equipment you might need, transportation, weapons if absolutely necessary," said Kopek, "but we'd prefer you avoid violence."

"Support?"

"Three of our operatives from the Vulcan Security Directorate, if needed," said Kopek.

"Assets?"

"Three of the First Monarch's ministers are against giving StarFleet permission to build a StarBase here," said Kopek. "They are worried that the Klingons will consider such a move provocative, so they'll jump on any chance to scuttle the negotiations between Kaitaama and StarFleet."

"Do you have a copy of the Krios Prime's legal statutes?"

"I do, for what it is worth," said Kopek, and after a few moments to download that data onto a PADD, he passed it to T'Pol. "I am afraid the Kriosian legal system is a hopelessly tangled mess, by Vulcan standards."

T'Pol pocketed the PADD, and said, "No matter. I will contact you if I need anything," said T'Pol, then stood. "Thank you for the tea, Kopek."

* * *

T'Pol entered the suite assigned to the crew, and the place was dark, save for a few night lights, and quiet. The captain was clearly still at his Royal Navy function, and the rest of the crew was out on the town. Walking through the suite on the way to the kitchen, T'Pol was greeted by a most unsavory sight.

Commander Tucker was on the patio, laying out on a lounge chair, but that was not the unsavory sight. No, the unsavory sight was of Kaitaama, straddling the commander, moving atop him, grinding against him in a manner that made it plain what was happening, and if that alone was not enough, the sight of the First Monarch's silk robe, split open from the neck down was clear enough, as were the commander's hands on her breasts.

Heart beating furiously, T'Pol was unable to think, and for the first time since she'd been a child, she froze. It was then that Kaitaama looked up, saw T'Pol, and smiled, as she kept grinding herself on Trip. T'Pol fled.


	8. Chapter 8

**—Chapter 8—**

The next morning, T'Pol stirred after a largely sleepless night of tossing and turning in her bed. She'd returned to the suite hours after witnessing the spectacle taking place between Commander Tucker and the First Monarch on the patio, and had blown past the rest of the crew to shower and then spend the next two hours meditating. As to why she should feel so torn over a relatively trivial act performed by a fellow crewman… well, to that question she had no answer, or at least no answer she wished to acknowledge.

She'd also had no answer to the fact that the First Monarch had returned to Commander Tucker's quarters after everyone else had gone to sleep. The walls were thick, but Vulcan hearing was keen and the Kriosians had seen no need to insulate the walls for sound beyond their own limitations, so T'Pol listened helplessly, bed covers drawn over her head, as Commander Tucker nailed that Kriosian bitch to the mattress throughout the night, over and over again! It was not fair, it was not just! The last, the worst, came near dawn, when the commander had pressed the woman against the wall which his bedroom shared with her's, and apparently put the First Monarch through a most vigorous workout, before sending her on her way, Kaitaama no doubt grinning from ear to ear after the night's debauchery.

Yes, it was well for Commander Tucker that Vulcans were masters of their emotions, else she would surely have killed the man after last night's provocation!

For what it was worth, a solution as to how to resolve Kopek's orders had come to T'Pol sometime during the long night's vigil. Best of all, once she carried through on her plan, she'd likely be executed, or at least imprisoned, and that was good, she thought, with a grim humor, for it would distract her from the fact that Commander Tucker had mated so passionately with the First Monarch... and distract her from the sounds which she could not forget... the commander's feral growls and brusque commands, Kaitaama's ecstatic moans, whimpers and words of endearment, all repeated to no end.

Forget about it, thought T'Pol. Time to make some sausage: she'd picked up that little homily from Commander Tucker, and found it amusing.

She used the Vulcan comm unit Kopek had given her the previous day, to reach out to the Vulcan diplomat, for she knew their communication was secured by thrice encrypted sub-routines.

"Kopek here."

"It is T'Pol."

"What can I do for you, T'Pol?"

"Those Kriosian ministers you mentioned yesterday," said T'Pol, "the ones that want no part of a StarFleet base in their sector. Can you count on them to take advantage of an opportunity in order to obstruct the discussions between Kaitaama and StarFleet."

"Yes, T'Pol," said Kopek. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will act tonight, at the Grand Opera. Vulcan will take some heat over my act, but have our Ambassador disown me from the start, and make sure your Kriosian ministers make much of the fact that I came here on a StarFleet vessel, as part of a StarFleet crew, and make sure they go public and cause agitation in the populace. If these ministers are capable, they can halt these discussions with StarFleet, and can use those facts to squash this StarBase discussion indefinitely."

"I will speak to them all, by noon. I trust you remember my warning that the First Monarch is not to be killed?"

"I will not kill her, Kopek," said T'Pol. "This situation calls for scandal, not blood. Just be ready to capitalize upon the situation."

"I will be ready, T'Pol."

* * *

That evening Trip, Archer and T'Pol were scheduled to accompany Kaitaama and several of her ministers to the Grand Opera, in order to attend an opening night performance. The others were invited, but Travis had returned to the Enterprise to review some upgrades done to Helm by one of Trip's engineers, while Malcolm and Hoshi had made themselves scare since dawn. Accordingly, the three made their way to one of the First Monarch's estates outside the capital, in a piloted Kriosian shuttle.

"That's a stylish dress, T'Pol," said Trip, eyeing closely the gray dress sent by Kaitaama, for T'Pol. "Fits like a glove."

T'Pol made a non-committal noise and continued studying her program for tonight's opera.

"You're quiet tonight," said Trip. "In fact, you've been quiet all day."

The Vulcan gave Commander Tucker a frosty look, and said, "Oh?"

"Yeah," said Trip. "I know you don't like Kaitaama, but—"

"Well, I am certain that you like Kaitaama," said T'Pol. "Yes, of that one fact I am certain, Commander Tucker."

"What's that supposed to mean?" said Trip.

"Just that I caught your little spectacle last night, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, "unimpressive as it was."

"What's that?" said Archer.

"Now hold on, T'Pol," said Trip. "Unimpressive? You know my shoulder was acting up, right? It was hurting like hell."

"No, you hold on hold on, Trip," said Archer. "What did you see last night, T'Pol?"

"How convenient," said T'Pol, "that you should blame your shoulder for a lackluster performance, Commander Tucker. Although, I will grant that you did not have much to work with in Kaitaama."

"And no one is listening to me," said Archer, looking at both Trip and T'Pol. "Screw it then."

The captain reached over to the shuttle's small but well stocked liquor cabinet and poured himself a drink.

"And what the hell were you doing watching us, T'Pol?" said Trip.

"You were in a public area, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol.

"Ok, now what the hell is going on?" said Archer.

"Commander Tucker and the First Monarch were, ah, amusing themselves on the patio last evening," said T'Pol. "And all of last night in his bedroom."

"You don't mean…" said Archer.

"Oh, but I do, Captain," said T'Pol.

"You heard that?" said Trip. "Last night I mean?"

"I have ears, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol tartly, turning her head slightly. "Do you not see them?"

"So what did you really think?" said Trip with a scoundrel's grin. "I was good, no?"

T'Pol rolled her eyes at the man's nerve, then favored him with the iciest look in her repertoire. She would not deign to answer the commander's ridiculous questions!

"Trip?" said Archer. "Is T'Pol right? You and Kaitaama on the patio?"

"It's her freaking palace, Captain," said Trip. "She can do what she wants, where she wants."

"Yeah, I suppose," said Archer, with a smile. "But she's making use of ah… StarFleet equipment, Trip."

"Willingly donated, sir," said Trip, looking at T'Pol. "It would have been inhospitable of me to turn her away. Anyway, it's not like I have a girlfriend, or anything. Not like anyone else wants me!"

"Oh, you're breaking my heart, Trip," said Archer with a laugh. "Forced to have sex with a beauty in her late-twenties. If only I could have suffered Kaitaama's attentions in your place, and spared you the suffering! Boo, freaking, hoo, Trip!"

* * *

T'Pol wasted no time. After the First Monarch greeted the rest of the crew inside her large and luxurious balcony box at the Royal Opera, Kaitaama approached T'Pol, with a smile. The same mocking smile she'd worn the night before while riding Commander Tucker, noted T'Pol, and so she took great pleasure in backhanding Kaitaama in front of thousands of witnesses. All were stunned, as Kaitaam fell to the ground, all save two Royal Guards, who pounced on T'Pol. She did not resist. Kaitaama stood and walked over to T'Pol, then gave the Vulcan a well executed punch, but given a Vulcan's greater bone density from growing up on a high-gravity planet, the First Monarch hurt her hand slightly more than she hurt T'Pol.

"Arrest this Vulcan bitch!" said Kaitaama. "Throw her in a hole until we decide her fate!"

* * *

Trip, Archer and Kopek stood as a prison guard brought T'Pol in the shitty interrogation they'd been assigned. The guard roughly pushed T'Pol into the room, and Trip bristled.

"Trip," said Archer in a low tone, and the commander kept his mouth shut.

T'Pol had a nasty bruise on the side of her face, and she moved stiffly, so it was clear that someone had done a number on her as the beginning of a payback for assaulting Kaitaama. Despite that, T'Pol's features were composed as she joined the three men at the table.

"What the hell was that all about, T'Pol?!" said Archer. "Did you lose your damned mind?"

T'Pol said nothing, merely looked at the captain with a placid look on her face.

"Answer me, T'Pol," said Archer. "Do you know the hassle you've caused for all of us? Vulcans, Humans, StarFleet. The public mood is nasty out there, T'Pol. They want to string you up."

"In that case I would appreciate a silk noose," said T'Pol. "Cotton would chafe my skin."

"Don't even start, T'Pol," said Archer, about to blow his stack. "Explain yourself!"

"I am not in the mood, Captain," said T'Pol. "Perhaps later."

Archer had enough.

"I'm going to the palace to speak with Kaitaama, see if she'll settle for us just bugging out," said Archer to T'Pol, "and forgetting the whole thing with an apology. I'll deal with you later, when you're back aboard the Enterprise. You'll be scrubbing toilets ship wide for a year as payback for this little stunt!"

"Thanks for stopping by Captain," said T'Pol, needlessly toying with the captain, it was true, but she was in an ill mood now, for her actions had freed up Trip, for Kaitaama. "Always a pleasure to see you."

Archer fixed her with a jaundiced eye. He knew T'Pol well enough by now to know that she was screwing with him in a Vulcan way.

"It will do no good, Captain," said Kopek. "The First Monarch is simply a figurehead for the first three years, until she gains some experience. T'Pol's fate will lie with Kaitaama's ministers."

"I've got to try anyway," said Archer. "Maybe she can't make decrees, but she could still have influence."

"Your logic is sound, Captain," said Kopek. "Good luck."

Once Archer had left the room, Kopek spoke with T'Pol in Vulcan for a time, and then said, "I will leave you now, Commander Tucker, so that you might speak with T'Pol."

"May I ask a favor, Kopek?" said Trip.

"Certainly, Commander Tucker."

"Would you wait for me down in the lobby? I'd like to speak with you privately."

"Certainly, Commander."

Once Kopek had left the room, Trip looked at T'Pol, and she back at him.

"I don't think you know how much trouble you're in, T'Pol," said Trip, "judging by the goofy look on your face."

"Goofy?"

"Yes, T'Pol," said Trip. "You look like shit, you're swimming in some seriously deep shit, and yet you've got the hint of a smile on your face. None of this is funny."

"I am smiling because I am pleased to see you, Commander Tucker."

"Than tell me why you did it?" said Trip.

Just then, the door opened, and a guard said, "Let's go, Vulcan. Get up."

"Why, T'Pol?"

T'Pol looked at the commander and considered the course of current events. She would never see the commander again if she were executed, or she might not see him for a long time, if ever again, if she was imprisoned. He would have a mate by the time she got out, of that she was certain, given his quality. A little honesty seemed appropriate as a farewell.

"T'Pol?"

"You ask why I struck Kaitaama… I could give you several reasons, but the truest is because the First Monarch laid hands on the man I would have chosen for my mate, if I had my heart's desire," said T'Pol, and Trip's eyes widened. "In short, I acted primarily out of jealousy, illogical as that might be."

"NOW VULCAN!" said the guard and the electric crackle of a stunner sounded.

T'Pol gave Trip a last look, and left the man with a look of wonder on his face.

* * *

"Thank you for waiting, Kopek," said Trip, as the two took a seat in what seemed to be a Kriosian coffee shop.

"You are quite welcome, Commander," said Kopek.

He watched the Human closely, for T'Pol had named the man impressive, so he was worthy of Kopek's full attention.

"So what do we do about T'Pol," said Trip. "How do we help her?"

"Your captain might have success in pleading for mercy with the First Monarch, on T'Pol's behalf," said Kopek.

"I doubt it will work," said Trip. "Kaitaama doesn't like T'Pol for some reason. Never did."

"Well, we will try diplomatic channels then, Commander Tucker," said Kopek.

"At best T'Pol will serve a shorter sentence," said Trip, "or maybe even a long sentence, if the initial punishment would have been execution for striking the head of a state."

"What do you suggest, Commander Tucker?"

"You've been stationed on Krios for quite a while, no?" said Trip.

"Ten years," said Kopek.

"Good," said Trip. "I'll guess that you're familiar with Kriosian law?"

"I am," said Kopek, interested now. "You wish to find a loophole that would free T'Pol?"

"Yes. Now, does Kriosian law make any allowances for what T'Pol did tonight under any circumstances?" said Trip.

Kopek saw the way of the Human's mind.

"Hmmm, well they make an allowance for shedding blood in a matter of long lasting family feuds," said Kopek, "but T'Pol would not qualify. She is not Kriosian, and no feud exists between the First Monarch's bloodline and T'Pol's."

"What else?"

"Kriosian law tend to show some forgiveness where crimes of passion are concerned," said Kopek, "like some jurisdictions on your own planet, Commander. But I don't see how that would apply to T'Pol."

The Vulcan moved to speak again, but Trip held his hand up, as a flash of cunning illuminated their current problem.

"Last night, the First Monarch and I were intimate, and T'Pol made it clear to me today that she saw us," said Trip. "What if we claimed that T'Pol and I are lovers, and T'Pol was driven to her act by jealousy?"

Kopek chuckled at that, and said, "I like it, Commander Tucker, but Kriosian law does not make allowances for lovers, only spouses."

"So? So what," said Trip. "I'm sure your people could forge a marriage certificate for T'Pol and I."

"It is not as simple as that," said Kopek. "Vulcan mates form psychic bonds, and the Kriosians know this fact."

"But can they verify that fact?" said Trip. "I know they're not psychic themselves, to any great degree at least."

"No," said Kopek, "but Kaitaama's court retains several Betazoids as Truth Tellers, and they are natural telepaths. The only way your plan would work, is to actually Bond with T'Pol."

"Bond?"

"Yes," said Kopek. "A Vulcan mind-priest would join your minds, and your katras, your spirits if you will, together. It is far more involved than you might imagine."

"But it could work?"

"It might work," said Kopek, thinking of the Kriosian ministers which he and T'Pol had aided, by advancing their joint agendas. They would swing the vote towards a more lenient sentence, of that Kopek was certain. "You are willing to do this, Commander Tucker? Bond with T'Pol?"

"Yes," said Trip.

* * *

"I can not accept Commander Tucker's offer," said T'Pol, though truthfully, she would have given much to be joined with Commander Tucker under other circumstances, even if only for an hour. Out of scientific curiosity, of course. "He does not know what it entails."

"No matter," said Kopek. "You have a year to sever the Bond, once we get you away from Krios. Now, Commander Tucker will be here any minute, with a mind-priest pretending to be an attorney."

"I do not know," said T'Pol: she would have to speak to Trip first.

"The matter has already been discussed, and I am ordering you on the High Command's behalf, to do as instructed, T'Pol," said Kopek. "You have performed much more difficult tasks during the course of your career, than temporarily Bonding with an alien."

Just then, the mind-priest entered the room, followed by Commander Tucker.

"We should act quickly," said Kopek, "lest the guards come and chase us out before we complete the procedure."

T'Pol stood and crossed the room to stand next to Commander Tucker, and the man noticed that the bruises on her looked an even darker shade of green, but her eyes were bright and intense and alive, and he meant to do whatever it took to keep them so.

"You are certain that you want to do this, Commander Tucker?" said T'Pol.

"I've been dreaming of nothing else all day, T'Pol. I've spent hours flipping through bridal magazines, looking for the perfect dress. I'll make a beautiful bride."

"What?"

"Forget it, T'Pol," said Trip. "Yes, I'm sure."

"I must tell you, that if I'm executed, you will suffer," said T'Pol. "Vulcans die shortly after their mate dies in the natural course of events, but that is for established Bonds, of longer than a year. Since our Bond will be but newly forged, you will survive if I'm executed, but you will likely have to deal with anger issues, nightmares, possibly even suicidal or homicidal thoughts of vengeance, and such..."

"I would have to deal with those things even without the Bond, T'Pol," said Trip.

T'Pol nodded, unsure of what to make of the commander's statement, and turned to face Kopek and the mind-priest. The mind-priest, an old Vulcan close to two hundred years old, stepped up to them, and looked them both over, and Trip was intrigued by the wisdom and focus in the old Vulcan's eyes.

The mind-priest touched the foreheads of both Trip and T'Pol and spoke an ancient vow in Old Vulcan as he joined the Human to T'Pol, by invoking a Bond. When he was done he nodded to the Human, and spoke briefly to T'Pol in Vulcan.

Kopek walked the old man out, and Trip said, "What did he say to you at the end?"

"He said our joining was one of the easiest he has ever done," said T'Pol. "He thinks that if he had not Bonded us, we would have naturally joined of our own accord, relatively soon, a year or so, no longer than two."

"Is that possible?"

"Apparently it is, Commander Tucker. The mind-priest is not a frivolous man, given to pointless jests," said T'Pol, neglecting to mention the mind-priests warning: she would make mention it later.

The door opened, and both turned to face the bailiffs.

"Let's go, Vulcan," said the Kriosian. "Time for your hearing."


	9. Chapter 9

**—Chapter 9—**

The administrative hearing for T'Pol was far short of a trial, and rightly so, for her guilt was incontestable. In fact this entire process was but a formality. Only her fate remained to be determined. The state's argument was simply presented to the three senior administrators chosen to hear this case, for there was not much to it. Then secondary information was brought to their attention.

A Kriosian psychologist stated that he found no metal illness to justify T'Pol's behavior. A Kriosian doctor stated that he had found no physical causes at the time of his examination, such as a brain tumor, to justify T'Pol's behavior. He also stated for the record that she had been beaten badly within a day of his examination and objected to it on ethical grounds.

No more Kriosians remained to be heard, so the administrators looked to Kopek, T'Pol's spokesman. He disclosed T'Pol's Bonded status, made his case that T'Pol's assault on the First Monarch was caused by a temporary chemical imbalance in the brain, brought on by the jealousy and the proprietary instinct that went along with the Bond, and asked for leniency from the administrators in view of that fact. A Betazoid TruthTeller was called, and she quickly determined that a Bond did in fact exist between T'Pol and Commander Tucker, though it seemed quite young. She could not give a specific time period during which the Bond had been forged, only that it was forged sometime in the past twenty-one days. The senior administrator, Belke, conferred with his colleagues and then addressed those assembled in the room, and there were many, for the room was packed. The Kriosian public was howling for justice for the First Monarch.

"We will dispose of this case promptly," said the administrator. "The Vulcan T'Pol's assault on the First Monarch is unforgivable, for the First Monarch is a tangible symbol of Krios Prime's history, culture and pride, given that her blood line goes back to the very founding of Krios Prime, some eight thousand years past. The penalty for assaulting any member of the Royal Family, especially the First Monarch, is purposefully harsh, but we are bound to consider any contributing factors, and the fact that T'Pol was likely driven to this act by a chemical imbalance, mitigates her offense, to some extent. Accordingly, we sentence the Vulcan T'Pol to imprisonment on Kalen Tesar for a period of ten years."

Kalen Tesar was a prison complex built on the second planet further out in orbit from Krios Prime. It was largely barren of life, save some primitive lichens, and uninhabitable, though it had a thin, cold atmosphere. What it had in abundance were mineral deposits of a wide variety, and it was to Kalen Tesar that Krios Prime's prisoners were sent, to mine out the vast mineral wealth of the planet, all in service to Krios.

"The Vulcan T'Pol will be transported shortly to Kalen Tesar. The Enterprise and its crew are to leave Krios Prime and our entire system, for a period of at least a year, as atonement for their part in this case, after which it may return if it so chooses. This hearing is now concluded. Clear the room."

The packed room of Kriosians began clearing the room slowly, speaking to one another earnestly, for some thought the sentence too lenient, while others thought it fair, and were satisfied.

T'Pol stood and turned to face Trip, Archer and Kopek. Of the three she focused on Commander Tucker, and the man drew close, the bailiffs allowing it, though watching closely to see that nothing was passed from the man, to T'Pol.

"T'Pol, there's no way tha—"

"Be silent," said T'Pol, seemingly unfazed at the prospect of a decade's imprisonment. "We don't have much time."

Trip nodded.

"The mind-priest gave me warning, after Bonding us," said T'Pol. "Given how easily we joined, he warned that if the Bond were to be severed safely, it should be done in the first six months at the most. Better still, four months. Kopek has told me that the mind-priest which joined us has already departed for Vulcan, or I would counsel you to seek him out."

"I don't want to sever our Bond," said Trip.

"Do as I say, Commander. Make your way to Vulcan once you leave Krios Prime. I'm certain the captain will willingly take you there once you explain the purpose of your visit, and the urgency of it. Kopek can arrange for a mind-priest to meet you, and sever our Bond."

Trip just looked at T'Pol with a particularly infuriating look he had cultivated, one among many, which made it clear he was just humoring her by hearing her out.

"Listen to me, Commander," said T'Pol, a bit of agitation apparent in her tone. "If the Bond is completed and I die on Kalen Tesar, you will die as well soon after, if you wait too long. Do as I say. That is an order! My last one to you, so obey me!"

The bailiffs approached T'Pol, but Trip didn't notice, for he was memorizing every line of T'Pol's face. How was it that he didn't even have a single photo of her?

"Commander!" said T'Pol as one of the bailiff's grasped her by the arm.

Trip composed himself, looked at T'Pol, and said, "I understand, SubCommander."

T'Pol looked at the man suspiciously. He said he understood, which was far short of saying he would obey. He was troublingly unpredictable much of the time.

"Promise me, Commander!" said T'Pol, knowing that a promise would carry greater weight with the man than an order.

"I promise," said Trip.

"Let's go," said the bailiff with a hold on T'Pol, and she moved reluctantly, still looking at Commander Tucker, and she spoke a few words in Vulcan as she passed the Human.

Archer and Kopek approached Trip, and Archer sighed.

Trip looked at Kopek and said, "T'Pol said something in Vulcan, before they took her away, the words sounded like—"

"She said, 'Peace and long life, Commander. I will not forget you'," said Kopek, then tapped his ear. "Vulcan hearing."

"We need to talk about this somewhere," said Archer, looking at both Trip and Kopek. "This can't stand."

"It won't, but the Enterprise has to leave the system," said Trip. "Listen, Captain, I have a ton of vacation time saved up, don't' I?"

"You do," said Archer. "You thinking of using some of it now?"

"If you don't mind, Captain," said Trip.

"Take as long as you need," said Archer. "But you'll need support. Intelligence. We leave the system and discuss things, see if the Enterprise can make your time off more enjoyable."

Kopek who had studied the Humans closely while they spoke, said, "The Kriosians will take note of the Enterprise hovering about, even if you leave their system. Perhaps you would allow me to help plan the Commander's vacation, while the Enterprise goes about its business. I can also offer him information, transportation, computer specialists, and anything else he requires, and I will contact you when it is warranted."

"Trip?" said Archer.

"Kopek's right, Captain," said Trip. "Malcolm's due for a vacation as well, if he's up for it."

"I'll ask him, and transport him down to the Vulcan Embassy, if he's on board with all this fun," said Archer, looking at Trip. "Good luck, and bring me something nice back to the Enterprise."


	10. Chapter 10

**—Chapter 10—**

"Three months!" said Trip, to Kopek, while Malcolm merely looked on. "Are you kidding me, Kopek?"

"I am not kidding you, Commander Tucker," said Kopek. "Three months is the earliest period during which you can act to help T'Pol. If you act prematurely, you will likely fail."

"Lt. Reed is a wizard at bypassing security systems," said Trip. "I think we can do better than three months."

"For the sake of argument, I will grant that you could conceivably make your way on-planet and inside the mining complex, but I doubt you could elude the guards long enough to find and extract T'Pol," said Kopek. "There are eighty-six thousand prisoners in those mines, spread out over some four hundred miles of underground tunnels. Those statistics are not encouraging."

Trip sighed. Kopek's logic was sound.

"To find T'Pol in a reasonable time frame you will need computer access, and you will need the ability to use Kriosian computers to begin with," said Kopek. "You also have to move around freely, and that means you have to pass for a guard. You can not play a game of hide and seek with sixty-five hundred prison guards for long, and expect to win that game, Commander Tucker."

Trip thought. Sure, they could overpower a guard and force him to locate T'Pol, and they could still try to rescue her, but Kopek was right, the odds were a long shot at best. Better a rescue delayed three months, than a premature attempt made, and failed.

"Ok, you're right, Kopek," said Trip. "I appreciate your input. But why three months in particular?"

"The guards working in Kalen Tesar are rotated out twice a year," said Kopek. "One of those rotations happens in three months, and we will take advantage of the controlled chaos of that rotation, to spirit T'Pol away from Kalen Tesar. You can't just show up there on a whim, Commander."

"So we sneak in with the new guards?" said Trip.

"Better than that," said Kopek. "Our computer specialists will hack into the proper servers and create Kriosian identities for you and Lt. Reed, with full backup. Job history, school history, employment history, tax records, medical records, the whole works. Anyone checks up on you, you'll pass, unless they're suspicious enough of you to actually try to speak to people who know you. Do not make them that suspicious. We will also insert you and Lt. Reed into the employee database under your assumed Kriosian names, and work you into the next rotation for Kalen Tesar. And when it is all over with, my people will go back in and delete all your records."

"You've done this before, Kopek," said Malcolm, appreciating the craftsmanship.

"Once or twice, Lt. Reed," said Kopek.

"All right," said Trip. "So Malcolm and I are basement dwellers under the Vulcan Embassy for three months."

"We will keep you busy, Commander Tucker, never fear," said Kopek. "You will train with the weapons available to the Kriosian prison guards on Kalen Tesar, namely knife, baton, phaser pistol and rifle. We have liberated two prison guards outfits and two sets of riot gear, so that you and Lt. Reed might become completely familiar with them. In addition, you will become familiar with Kriosian computer systems, and most importantly if you mean to pass yourself off as prison guards, you will study the language. By the time you leave here, you will be fluent in Kriosian."

"We'll do our best," said Trip, and Malcolm nodded his agreement.

"You will do well, Commander Tucker," said Kopek, "and we will help, with more than language tutors. Some of the linguists working here at the embassy will mind meld with you two on a regular basis and that will make a great difference for the better, you will see."

"Fantastic," said Trip, uneasy about the prospect of a mind meld.

"Indeed," said Kopek, missing the irony in Trip's voice.

"When do we begin our preparations?" said Malcolm.

"Now," said Kopek.

* * *

T'Pol cursed aloud as she pushed a loaded mineral cart up an incline. Most women were given lighter tasks, but a Vulcan's strength was known to the Kriosians, and so T'Pol was assigned the hard tasks.

The main passages of the mines had initially been dug deep into the earth through the use of machines, and then expanded upon through the use of hand tools, so that while the machine dug passages were wide and well lit, the hand dug tunnels were cramped, barely adequate to accommodate the carts on their tracks, dimly lit, and a claustrophobic's worst nightmare.

Krios Prime's legal system did not coddle prisoners, and so they dug, day and night, in twelve hour shifts, though the vast majority had not seen either day or night for years, and many would never see them again, for a sentence to Kalen Tesar was often as good as a death sentence.

The one good thing was that the warden of the mines was a professional, and though this place was considered a shit assignment, the guards themselves were fair, if sometimes harsh, but T'Pol knew that harshness was needed to maintain discipline, and discipline was a must, for the mines themselves were a horror.

Besides the cramped tunnels, cold showers, lousy food and frequent outbursts of violence between the prisoners, there was also the bone chilling cold, the fine dust so thick that it hampered both breathing and visibility, and worst of all, the constant sensation of being watched from behind tinted glass windows, or from behind the tinted face masks of the guards, for they seemed as interchangeable as grains of sand on a beach behind those masks, faces hidden, voices distorted by the air filters built into the mask.

"Move faster, Vulcan," said a guard watching T'Pol struggle with the cart, "if you want to eat tonight."

Normally T'Pol could not have cared less if she ever ate the slop that passed for food here, but she had to guard her health. Commander Tucker, that infuriating fool, that maddening Human, that, that illogical mate of hers, had not had severed their Bond yet. Perhaps the Enterprise had been diverted from Vulcan by some sort of emergency. Yes, that had to be it, she reasoned, though deep inside, she felt that Commander Tucker meant to defy her, meant to continue holding the Bond no matter the risk, and though she hated that he was foolish enough to take that risk under the current conditions, she was honest enough to admit that she took great comfort from her Bond to Commander Tucker. It was the only good thing in her life at the moment, and when she dared dream, she hoped that he might wait for her to get out, for her chances of escape were essentially zero.

* * *

"No, Lt. Reed," said the Vulcan linguist working with them. "You are placing too much stress on the second vowel."

Trip smirked, and the Vulcan turned her attention to the man. Trip wiped the smirk off his face instantly, for V'Tala was a tyrant.

"I will get to you soon enough, Commander Tucker," she said. "Your Kriosian needs work as well, though the mind melds are helping greatly. Now, try again, Lt. Reed."

* * *

T'Pol took her food tray and found a place on the periphery of the men in her work crew. They were a rough lot, often silent, but she preferred their grim resignation and their company, to the despair and misery of the women's quarters.

She studied the food in search of something edible for her. Since Surak's coming the Vulcan's had been vegetarians, which left half the tray unpalatable for her. She kept the rice, lentils and the three dried plums and pushed her tray, with about a pound of some kind of meat stew in a spicy pepper sauce towards the men in her work crew, and began eating. Moments later, her stew was partitioned out among the four men.

"T'Pol," said one of the men, sliding a plate towards her.

The plate contained six dried plums, a handful of rice, a small bowl of lentils, and a cookie from yesterday's meal which one of the men had obviously saved. These men had done this since T'Pol's first day here, when she'd pushed her meat away untouched, each man giving what he could spare in return for her meat, for they knew that given the nature of their work, T'Pol's meager vegetarian diet would not sustain her through the days of hard labor for long. T'Pol nodded her gratitude and ate silently, along with the rest of her crew.

* * *

"Try again, Commander Tucker," said Tallak, one of the Vulcan marines stationed at the embassy. "Lt. Reed did well. You need to do the same."

Trip, in full Kriosian prison guard riot gear drew his baton in a flash and swung at Tallak. The Vulcan jumped back, and Trip followed, fully aware that Tallak was looking for an opening to turn the tables on him. He swung again, and Tallak reached for him, but Trip rapped him smartly on the wrist, then allowed the baton to continue its trajectory to catch Tallak in the knee. Though Trip had held back much of the power of his strikes, Tallak still grunted in pain, and pulled back, drawing his own baton.

"Now you've made him mad, Trip," said Malcolm, smiling at Trip. "Now you're gonna pay."

Trip scowled at Malcolm in response, then turned his attention to the Vulcan, as Tallak closed the distance, the fixed, unblinking look of a bird of prey in his eyes.

Ah, crap! thought Trip, then drew the stiff rubber knife at his waist. If he was going down, he was going down fighting and he was dexterous enough to use two weapons effectively. He'd discovered that fact here, in this lousy Vulcan dungeon.

* * *

T'Pol looked at the ceiling of her cell from the top bunk. Kerra, her cell mate, had finally stopped crying into her pillow and as Vulcans needed less sleep than Humans, T'Pol now savored the only approximation of privacy which her circumstance allowed, the silence broken now and then by a guard opening or closing one or another of the metal doors on her floor.

She meditated for an hour or so, then her thoughts inevitably turned to Trip, turned to her mate, for their nascent Bond had still not been severed, and now she knew it would never be. Commander Tucker would simply allow the time to run out until the Bond was completed and unbreakable, and T'Pol could no longer find it in herself to blame the man. She'd felt her mate's emotions within hours of being Bonded to the man when in close proximity, but now she felt him even at a distance… wherever he was. She felt frustration and focus pouring from him at the moment, as he most likely faced a technical problem on the Enterprise, and those sensations were layered on the surface, but beneath that she felt his overwhelming desire for his mate. She suspected that he felt her as well, and wondered what emotions she gave off through the Bond.

Longing, most likely, thought T'Pol. Endless longing.

If the nature of the Bond held true even with a Human mate, soon enough they would be able to communicate telepathically through the Bond, and T'Pol looked forward to that day eagerly.

Sometime during the night T'Pol fell asleep, only to be awakened at dawn by the sirens. Rolling out of her bunk with a groan, T'Pol braced herself for another day.

* * *

"You both have an appointment with a surgeon in our Medical Bay," said Kopek. "As I've said, minor alterations only."

Though Kriosians held to the common humanoid template in this galaxy, there were some subtle differences between Humans and Kriosians, which a Vulcan surgeon would iron out.

"You've got a couple of weeks to spare, which will allow the slight swelling will go down," said Kopek, "and then we fit you for some proper contact lenses, Commander Tucker. No Kriosian has eyes that shade of blue."

* * *

"I'll need you to take the water jet tomorrow, T'Pol," said Bran, the unofficial leader of her work group, while waiting for the guards to herd them to the showers at the end of another long shift. "Tem's shoulder is still screwed up."

T'Pol nodded her agreement.

"You're losing weight T'Pol," said Bran, looking at the Vulcan. "If you won't eat meat I'll speak to the guards, see if we can add some nuts to your diet. The fats and protein will do you good, help you maintain weight instead of wasting away."

"I would appreciate that, Bran," said T'Pol, "if you think it will do any good to ask. I've heard that Kriosian almonds are quite tasty."

"Leave it to me," said Bran. "I'll make a case for it under the guise of boosting your efficiency."

T'Pol suspected that she would get her almonds. Bran got things done, and no one knew quite how, though it was rumored that he was a member of the Kriosian criminal underworld. If true, that would explain Bran's untoward power even in this place, for even prison guards had families and friends back on Krios Prime, and Kriosian criminals knew well how to make use of such leverage.

* * *

"Well, Commander Tucker, it is almost time," said Kopek. "I think you are both ready."

"You're damned right we are," said Trip. "When do we leave?"

"Five days from now," said Kopek, passing two PADDs to Trip. "These are your cover identities. Memorize them."

"Will do," said Malcolm.

"Thanks, Kopek," said Trip.

* * *

T'Pol grunted as the larger of the Klingons struck her once, then again, in the ribs, though she kept her eyes on the smaller Klingon, who was approaching with a shiv in hand. These two had recently been brought into the women's cell block in which T'Pol was stationed, and although they'd left her alone until now, they'd finally decided to take offense at the Vulcan's lack of respect, as they saw it, for T'Pol refused to kowtow to the Klingons, though she'd never antagonized them either.

As hard as these particular Klingons considered themselves, they were no a match for a V'Shar trained operative. Without a wasted motion, T'Pol drove her foot into the side of the larger Klingon's knee, breaking it with an audible crunch, and then charged the smaller Klingon to relieve her of the shiv, only to return it shortly by burying it into her shoulder. The guards responded to the incident just in time to order T'Pol to her knees.

"Fighting is forbidden, Vulcan," said the sergeant in charge of this squad, taking note of the screaming Klingon with a broken knee, and the silent Klingon with a knife in her shoulder.

"I was defending myself," said T'Pol, her voice cool.

"I believe you, Vulcan, and the video feed will show us the truth in any case," said the sergeant. "Still, you still need to cool off a bit."

The sergeant looked at two of his men, and one of them said, "Sergeant?"

"Take the Vulcan to solitary," said the sergeant.

* * *

It took the three men just a few minutes to walk from the Vulcan Embassy's basement to its roof, and another twenty minutes worth of flight time for the embassy's shuttle to drop Trip and Malcolm on the roof of the building which housed the prison guards processing center, where Trip and Malcolm would check in and then pick up their assigned gear, in preparation for their departure .

"Give my best to your mate, Commander Tucker," said Kopek, holding his hand out in the human manner.

Trip shook the Vulcan's hand, though surprised at the gesture, then Malcolm did the same, along with a friendly nod for the Vulcan. Malcolm knew how valuable, the Vulcan's aid.

Kopek looked at the Humans, appreciatively. The High Command had sent another mind-priest to Krios Prime as soon as they had found out that Commander Tucker had Bonded T'Pol in an effort to aid her, and strongly suggested that Kopek pressure the man into severing the Bond, though they could not order it outright, for the Bond was a sacred thing amongst Vulcans. Kopek had sounded the man out and discovered that Commander Tucker had no intention of severing his Bond to SubCommander T'Pol under any circumstance. Kopek found that sentiment agreeable, for Commander Tucker's devotion to his mate was admirable, and in defiance of the High Command's orders, Kopek made no further attempts to press Commander Tucker into ending that Bond.

"Thanks for everything, Kopek," said Trip.

"Good luck, Commander Tucker," said Kopek. "Remember all the pieces we still have in play."


	11. Chapter 11

**—Chapter 11—**

The change of guards for the entire prison complex at Kalen Tesar was hectic, but it was a controlled chaos, for most of the guards had performed the maneuver a half dozen times, or more. Each trip, thirteen hundred men were dropped off at Kalen Tesar, and thirteen hundred were taken away, and after a few days, the turnover was complete, and the newly delivered guards had ten days to settle into their routines, before they had to deal with prisoner releases, for much like the guards, the prisoners were released in two batches a year.

Malcolm, or rather Teff Usten, had been amongst the first batch shipped in, and had found himself stationed on the relatively cushy Level 1. The bio Kopek's crew had created had placed Malcolm in the prison's IT (information technology) department as a low-level tech, but that meant he would avoid the unpleasantness of the mines almost completely. His first task was to locate T'Pol, and that was easily done by any prison guard. He performed a database search by species, and found fourteen Vulcans, currently incarcerated on Kalen Tesar. He eliminated the males, which left three females. Of these three, only one had been incarcerated recently. Clicking on the record, he saw a photo of T'Pol.

Got you, T'Pol! thought Malcolm.

He noted her numerical identifier. 3-0240-0179-994811A. The first number identified the level on which T'Pol was quartered. The following four numbers identified the cell block to which she was assigned, the second four numbers her work group and the last alpha-numerical value was her unique identifier. After jotting down the number, Malcolm moved on.

He inserted a thumb drive into the server he was currently working at, and within a matter of minutes, the Vulcan computer virus he'd introduced to the system gave him administrative control of the system, rather than the more limited control which had come with his posting here. He would need such control in the coming days, and he needed it now.

He opened the employee database and pulled up the record for Mil Graff, Trip's Kriosian identity. Assigned to Level 5, noted Malcolm. A few taps on the keyboard, and Trip changed places with a guard initially stationed on Level 3.

His business here concluded, Malcolm looked at his job que: replace a dozen monitors all over the complex, replace three printers and install five workstations on Level 9.

Time to earn my Kriosian paycheck, thought Malcolm.

* * *

The morning sirens went off, and T'Pol rose out of her bunk, along with her cell mate, Kerra. The Vulcan was troubled now, for the emotions she'd felt from Trip the past few days had changed, and instead of frustration and a desire for his mate, T'Pol perceived excitement and satisfaction. So... the commander had clearly made his peace with her fate here in the mines, and had gone back to Kaitaama. There could be no other explanation. The only question which remained was why he still held her Bond, if he'd decided to move on with his life.

Time will tell, thought T'Pol.

She made ready to leave her cell for the sparse meal that passed for breakfast here, and halted right outside the cell. She was briefly disoriented, for she sensed a fierce exaltation through the Bond, and she was not used to feelings of such intensity simply allowed to run rampant. These were her mate's feelings.

Get a hold of yourself, she thought, for she noted a Kriosian guard facing her from the 2nd floor, and though it was impossible to tell with those tinted face shields, T'Pol was certain that the guard was looking at her.

No doubt because I'm making a fool of myself.

"Come T'Pol," said Kerra, "we must eat something."

Lowering her head, T'Pol followed Kerra to the mess hall, though she sneaked a glance at the guard, one last time. The Kriosian was still focused on her, she knew it for a fact, for she could practically feel the man's intensity.

She worked another backbreaking shift and then showered before being herded into the mess hall for her evening meal. There T'Pol found a surprise, for she noted that the line cook added a six ounce bag of assorted nuts rolled in sugar to her tray, and this after heaping on an extra large portion of creamed spinach and mushrooms on her rice.

A moment later she joined her work crew at one of the tables, and said, "Thank you, Bran."

The man nodded, and said, "You're a good egg, T'Pol. I don't want to see you waste away."

T'Pol was about to reply to Bran, when a guard came into view, and she knew instantly that it was the guard who had been watching her that morning. Graff, was written on his name tag. The guard moved on in due time, but T'Pol's heart still raced. There was something odd about that man.

* * *

"How is she?" asked Malcolm

"Haven't had a chance to speak with her yet, but she looks all right," said Trip. "I'll do it later. How are things coming on your end?"

"All good," said Malcolm. "We leave tomorrow."

"Great," said Trip.

* * *

That night, after sharing her mixed nuts with Kerra, T'Pol laid on her bunk, lost in thought, while Kerra prattled on about her Kriosian boyfriend who was no doubt waiting dutifully for her return, when the woman suddenly halted her chatter. T'Pol opened her eyes and saw the guard, Graff, standing in her cell, tapping his left leg with the drawn baton. She climbed off the bunk and stood before the man.

"Face a wall, Vulcan," said Graf, voice sounding vaguely robotic due to the distortion caused by the face mask and air filters.

T'Pol obeyed.

"So you disabled two Klingons, eh?" said Graff, stepping further into the cell..

"Yes," said T'Pol still facing the wall, and feeling Graff getting closer.

"What do you want?" said Kerra.

"Surprise inspection," said Graff. "You wouldn't have any weapons in here, would you?"

"No," said Kerra. "We don't have any weapons. You can check."

"I know I can check," said Graff, looking Kerra in the eye, and the young woman stepped back.

There was no doubt that Kerra spoke the truth, but that's not why Graff was there.

"I believe you," said Graff, gesturing at Kerra with his baton. "Get out."

Kerra turned and fled, and Graff turned his attention to T'Pol.

"What crime did you commit to get tossed in here, Vulcan?"

"I assaulted a woman."

"Why?"

"She put her hands on my mate."

"I thought Vulcans were creatures of logic, who had purged yourselves of emotion," said Graff.

"We use logic to control our passions, and modulate our responses," said T'Pol, head turned slightly to keep the Kriosian in her view, "but the passions remain."

"Speaking of passions," said Graff, "I dreamed of you last night, Vulcan."

"I doubt that," said T'Pol.

"No, it's true," said Graff. "I dreamed you came to my quarters, wearing only a smile T'Pol, carrying one of Chef's pecan pies as a token of your affection, but I chose the pie, and showed you the door. You know pecan pie is my favorite. It was a choice you were bound to lose."

T'Pol sighed heavily, and lowered her head, still facing the wall for appearances had to be maintained in this place.

"You impetuous fool," said T'Pol crossly, though her heart was dancing. "I ordered your to sever our Bond."

"Really?" said Trip. "I heard no such order, SubCommander. You should learn to project your voice, if you wish to be heard."

"You also promised me."

"My fingers were crossed, T'Pol," said Trip, as he began tossing her mattress.

"What?"

"Never mind," said Trip. "You didn't really think I'd allow my mate to rot in this Kriosian shithole for ten years, did you?"

"Still, the risk… When I get my hands on you, you are going to be very sorry!"

"Yeah, and when I get my hands on you," said Trip, flipping Kerra's mattress over now, "you're going to be very satisfied."

T'Pol blushed strongly at the thought, though no one was in a position to observe that fact. She'd unintentionally recalled the sounds of satisfaction Kaitaama had made, and despite the feelings of jealousy those memories aroused, she had wondered what bedding Commander Tucker would be like, wondered many times.

"And how will you get your hands on me, Commander Tucker? " said T'Pol after a moment's pause. "I trust you have a plan to get us out of here?"

"I do," said Trip. "Just go with the flow when your routine is altered."

"All right."

"How was your stay here?"

"Not bad," said T'Pol, minimizing her suffering, "thanks to my work crew, and Kerra."

"They watched out for you?"

"I would have starved if they had not shared food with me," said T'Pol, "given how strenuous the work."

"All right," said Graff, pushing Kerra's mattress back in place, and tossing her blankets atop it in a hopeless mess, all business now, for he'd noticed a guard walking the 2nd floor take a momentary interest in his doings, "go about your business, Vulcan."

T'Pol turned and looked at Graff, and was surprised to see a slight smile on her face in the guard's mirrored face shield, slight enough to go unnoticed by the other guard at a distance, but not by T'Pol herself.

Well, if any circumstance warrants breaking discipline, thought T'Pol, this is such an occasion.

What she didn't notice in her reflection, but Trip could not miss, was the intensity in her eyes. If he'd ever doubted that she was capable of emotions, or doubted that she was capable of love to be more precise, he would doubt that no more.

* * *

That night, Trip and Malcolm shared a monitor as they read the information displayed upon the screen.

Kerra was here because she'd hurt someone while driving home drunk from a bar. Still, she was scheduled for release on the next cycle.

"Forget her," said Trip. "She's out in six months. Pull up T'Pol's work group."

Moments later, Malcolm had done so and they reviewed the information.

Bran, sentenced to five years for beating the man who'd robbed his mother and broken her hip in the act, to within an inch of his life. He'd done a year, still had four more to go.

Tem, a small time fence of stolen goods. Sentenced seven years, still had six to go.

Limat, a bookie, who'd gotten overconfident and was now paying the price. Sentenced to six years, still had four to go.

Aslan, the art thief. Sentenced ten years, still had seven to go.

"They kept T'Pol alive," said Trip. "Let's see what we can do for them, Malcolm."

Malcolm worked at the keyboard for the next five minutes, then said, "It's done."

"T'Pol?"

"It's done, I tell you," said Malcolm. "Same as I told you three times now."

"Forgive me," said Trip, "I just don't want to leave this place without her, you understand."

"Yes, yes, Trip. She's good to go."

"And you've altered our work assignments as well?"

"Yes, Trip," said Malcolm. "We're providing security on T'Pol's flight out."

"What about the computer virus?" said Trip, meaning the Vulcan program which Malcolm had loaded onto the master computer servers, and which had come in so handy.

"It requires me to log in every forty-eight hours," said Malcolm, "or it self destructs, taking our employee records along with itself to a digital void."

"Let's hit the sack than," said Trip. "Big day tomorrow."

* * *

The next morning, just as T'Pol was about to take over the water jet, a guard approached her, clipboard in hand, and said, "ID Number."

"3-0240-0179-994811A," said T'Pol.

The guard compared the number given him by T'Pol to the one on his PADD, compared photo on his PADD to T'Pol, and held out an ID-Box. T'Pol inserted a finger inside, and a tiny needle pierced her finger, and compared her DNA to the ID number she'd given. While processing the results, the needle was heated quickly by the base unit, in order to sterilize the steel, and the ID-Box beeped a soft chime to confirm her identity. The guard checked off her ID number.

"Go stand by the elevators," said the guard.

T'Pol did so, and passed by Graff, for he was one of the guards securing the elevators. The guard watched her briefly and T'Pol forced her eyes to move past him, quite casually. She waited by the elevator for an hour or so, and during that time T'Pol was joined by another hundred or so prisoners, and then finally the guard.

"We're headed for Processing," said the guard to the assembled prisoners. "Stay with me. If you wander off, your ass ends up back here for another rotation."

Graff watched the prisoners move off, and then approached T'Pol's work group. He'd seen the files of these men, and he recognized Bran from his photo.

"Bran, get over here," said Graff.

The man stepped up to Graff, and waited for the guard to speak.

"There are four flights out of here this rotation," said Graff. "You and the men in your work crew will be on the second flight out, if you guys want out of here. They'll call you up for Processing after your shift, and the ship takes off at 24:00."

Bran was speechless for a moment, a dozen questions left unasked, for this was not the time and place for a question and answer session, but he said, "T'Pol?"

"Don't worry about T'Pol," said Graff, and something in the man's voice made Bran smile.

He'd seen T'Pol head off for Processing, although she'd been sentenced to ten years here and he'd assumed some sort of clerical error. The thought that T'Pol would be freed pleased them all, for they were fond of the Vulcan: her stoic acceptance of the suffering that came along with being sentenced to the mines was endearing.

"You must be Trip," said Bran.

Graff gave a slight nod.

"Although your records here have been doctored to show a commuted sentence, it does not affect your planet side records," said Graff, "and they will not stand scrutiny if the four of you end up in court again. I suggest you all avoid any further entanglements with the justice system, or better yet, leave Krios Prime. Or you all could just finish out your time. Your choice."

"I understand," said Bran.

"I suggest Regulus, or maybe Celes," said Trip. "You all have a second chance, Bran, because you watched out for my mate. Make the most of it."

Bran nodded, and said, "Thanks, Trip. I've always fantasized of running a restaurant, and Kriosian food is not widely known on Risa. I would do well there, with my mother's secret recipes."

Trip nodded, and said, "I'd go with that plan, Bran. Risa's a gem. Now get your ass back to work."

Bran nodded, and said, "Thanks again."

* * *

The same ship which had ferried the guards to Kalen Tesar, served to ferry the prisoners back to Krios Prime, thirtheen hundred at a time. Though these people were now civilians, a hundred guards accompanied the prisoners on each trip, mostly to exercise a calming influence on the universally excited, and often rambunctious passengers.

Graff and Usten were among those guards, thanks to Malcom's manipulation of their assigned duties, and they boarded the ship before the prisoners, after having verified that T'Pol was still in the pipeline.

A scrubbed and clean, though still scruffy haired T'Pol boarded the transport ship, seemingly as cool as ever, though inwardly fretting over the whereabouts of her mate. She had to trust that he had covered all the bases, though her eyes flitted from guard to guard, hoping to see Commander Tucker.

Someone touched her shoulder, and she breathed a sigh of relief, for she felt her mate's resonance through the Bond.

"Find a seat, Vulcan," said Trip. "You're blocking the aisle."

"Yes," said T'Pol, and thought, Oh, thank you, you beautiful man!, overcome with gratitude at the prospect of freedom, and a new life with her mate.

What happened next was expected, at some time, but still surprising, for she heard Trip's voice, in her mind, as the man passed her to move towards the front of the ship.

—I am a sexy beast, aren't I? sent Trip to T'Pol through the Bond, then another. You got lucky, T'Pol, no two ways about it.

T'Pol, looking discreetly at her mate's retreating back, could not truthfully refute that statement.

* * *

The transport ship was an old model, though well maintained, and her top speed was only Warp 1, so the trip from Kalen Tesar to Krios Prime still took some five hours. She'd originally been designed as a troop carrier, so she was fully capable of landing and taking off a planetary body, so for the sake of efficiency she landed at the main space port of the Kriosian capital, which could easily handle the volume of passengers she was about to discharge.

Once the hangar style doors were opened the passengers swarmed out for the main terminal, followed shortly by the guards. The ship would make a two hour layover, to refuel and do a safety check, before making the journey back to Kalen Tesar for the second batch of prisoners, so it was common for guard and crew to enter the huge main terminal for food and drink.

T'Pol headed for the terminal, indending to wait for her mate inside, but her eyes were drawn by an approaching Vulcan. Kopek. The Vulcan handed T'Pol a light Vulcan robe, and T'Pol slipped into it, then raised the hood over her head, imitating Kopek.

"It is good to see you again, T'Pol," said Kopek in Vulcan.

"Likewise, Kopek," said T'Pol.

That Kopek was here told T'Pol that her people had been involved in her mate's rescue attempt, even if Lt. Reed and her mate had been the tip of the spear, so to speak. They waited another twenty minutes before Commander Tucker made his way into the terminal, another guard following Trip closely, and unless she missed her guess, T'Pol knew that had to be Lt. Reed, for he and the commander were good friends, who were prone to facing dangerous missions together. T'Pol had not known that the Lieutenant was involved in this venture. She would have to thank the man later, for taking such risks on her behalf.

The four headed wordlessly for the exit, and soon boarded a Kriosian taxi, headed for the Vulcan Embassy, where T'Pol's first appointment was with a doctor, for a medical checkup, while Trip, Kopek and Malcolm headed for the embassy's mess hall, and their first exposure to an authentic Vulcan meal, all vegetarian and served on a silver mess tray, divided in seven sections.

"The main theme of a Vulcan meal," said Kopek, as he noticed the Humans curiously inspecting their food, "is serving fresh, seasonal foods, which satisfy all six tastes."

"Six?" said Trip.

"Sweet, sour, salty, bitter, pungent and astringent, as Vulcans reckon them," said Kopek, "though Humans might count the last a texture, or a property of food."

"Who are you talking to, Kopek?" said Malcolm.

"Oh? You are familiar with Vulcan dietary principles, Lt. Reed?" said Kopek.

"I have lived all my life on Vulcan, Kopek, so yes, I know everything about Vulcan dietary principles," said Malcolm in the driest of tones, wondering if Kopek would fall for it.

"Apologies. I thought I knew everyone that lived on Vulcan," said Kopek, responding to Lt. Reed's jest with one of his own, as they all began eating. "Anyway, I am glad everything went according to plan."

"Thanks to you, Kopek," said Trip. "We're used to doing things on a wing and a prayer, and just barely pulling things off in heroic style, but I have to admit, when professionals are in charge, things go smoothly."

"Not always, Commander Tucker," said Kopek, "but they did this time."

"Mmmm, spicy," said Trip, really digging into his Vulcan food now. "It's good."

After their meal was completed, and coffee was served, Malcolm noted the time, and said, "Our transport should have left by now."

"Make the call," said Trip, and Malcolm pulled out his Kriosian comm unit: moments later he was speaking to someone at headquarters. "Look, we missed the damned flight. Have the ship come back for us."

After a moment's pause to listen to the speaker on the other end, Malcolm said, "We drank a bit too much. Ok, we got drunk. It's not that big a deal."

Another slight delay.

"What? Well, screw you!" said Malcolm, before turning off his comm unit.

Trip looked at Malcolm, smiled, and said, "Well?"

"We're fired," said Malcolm.

"Just as well," said Trip, and noted Kopek's inquisitive look. "If we just disappeared, questions would be asked. Now that we're fired, we're accounted for, we've made a proper exit. No one will ask questions about us."

Kopek nodded his understanding, and then the Vulcan's eye was drawn by movement, as T'Pol entered the mess hall.

Trip stood and said, "Your checkup?"

"I am fine, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol. "Borderline malnutrition, but I was given a vitamin shot and some mineral pills, which should rectify the problem quickly, now that I have access to a variety of foods."

"Well, sit," said Trip. "I'll get you a meal tray. The food was pretty good."

"I thought I might take a nap first," said T'Pol. "You should join me, Commander Tucker. You must be exhausted after your stressful mission."

"I'm all right, T'Pol," said Trip. "Come on, eat something first, you must be starving."

"I do not want to eat right now, Commander Tucker. I want to nap. In my present condition, if I should stuff myself, well, it would interfere with my nap," said T'Pol, looking meaningfully at Trip. "With our nap."

Malcolm smiled, and Kopek noted Malcolm's smile, and came to his own conclusion.

"You should go nap now, Commander Tucker," said Kopek.

"What the hell's wrong with all of you? She needs to eat something," said Trip, then noted Malcolm's leer, Kopek's smug look, and most importantly, received an image and sensation from T'Pol along the Bond, of T'Pol pushing him against a wall and mashing her lips to his in a fevered press.

"Oh… I see. Yeah, let's nap T'Pol. Let's nap our brains out!"


	12. Chapter 12

**—Chapter 12—**

Given the course of recent events, it would have been impossible to simply return T'Pol to the Enterprise and pretend she'd never gone missing, so once all three had made their way aboard the Enterprise in their own time, Archer threw a hell of a welcome back party for them that lasted the better part of a day and a night, and then Archer reported the Vulcan's return to the Enterprise. HQ's response was brief: return to Earth.

Once in orbit, Trip, Archer, Malcolm and T'Pol took a shuttle down to the surface, to StarFleet's HQ. There would be an informal inquiry into recent events. The crew members were guided into one of the conference rooms, seated on one side of a long table. Across from them, sat three StarFleet Admirals, Taylor, Ryan and Forrest, as well as Ambassador Soval, representing the Vulcans.

"All right," said Admiral Ryan, looking at the three people across the table from him, "let's not waste any more time. This is an informal inquiry, so we will ask questions, and you will answer them."

"Yes, sir," said Archer.

"Let's begin with you, Captain Archer," said Ryan. "Is it customary aboard the Enterprise for members of your crew, in this case Commander Tucker and Lt. Reed, to simply take a leave of absence lasting months?"

"No, sir," said Archer.

"And yet, in this case you allowed it."

"Yes, sir."

"Why, Captain?"

"Commander Tucker and Lt. Reed were upset over T'Pol's incarceration," said Archer. "They had vacation time saved up, and I saw no harm in it."

"You think I'm stupid, Captain," said Ryan.

"No, sir."

Flipping through a folder, Ryan said, "Tucker had seven weeks of vacation time saved up. Reed had five weeks. Yet they were gone for thirteen weeks."

"Yes, sir," said Archer.

"And you did not find that troubling, Captain?"

"No, sir," said Archer.

"StarFleet's involvement in the scene at Krios Prime was relatively minor," said Ryan. "We were barred from Krios Prime for a year, and the Vulcans were the ones holding the hot potato, yet you saw fit to involve us in a more major way, by facilitating SubCommander T'Pol's escape from prison?"

"Sir?" said Archer, for the matter had been discussed thoroughly, and they'd decided to take a course which would insulate StarFleet from any harm, by providing the fleet with plausible deniability. "I know nothing of any escape. If I have been negligent, I will pay the price, but I don't see how StarFleet was involved in SubCommander T'Pol's escape."

"You've got to be shitting me, Captain," said Ryan. "I wasn't born yesterday."

"I am not shitting you, sir," said Archer. "If there is any proof that the Enterprise, or any of its crew were involved in the SubCommander's escape I'd like to see that proof. At the approximate time that she made her escape, the Enterprise was orbiting Tellar."

"And what were Tucker and Reed doing with their thirteen weeks of free time?" said Ryan.

"You'll have to ask them that yourself, sir," said Archer.

"And how did Tucker, Reed and T'Pol find their way to the Enterprise," said Ryan.

"Commander Tucker and Lt. Reed made their way to Tellar on a passenger liner arriving on Tellar from Celes," said Archer. "T'Pol contacted us from a Risan freighter two days later and we intercepted the freighter to pick up the SubCommander."

"How convenient, all around, Captain," said Ryan. "I'll get back to you."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Forrest looked at T'Pol, and said, "I have no authority over you, SubCommander, save to toss you off our ships, but you're something else, SubCommander."

"May I ask how you mean that, sir?" said T'Pol.

"You're one the best officers serving aboard a StarFleet vessel, even if you're just on loan," said Forrest. "You've saved lives while in command of the Enterprise, even saved the ship several times, and yet, in the blink of an eye, you become a pain in the ass, a fucking liability."

"Yes, sir," said T'Pol. "I apologize. If you see fit to give me a second chance, I will not fail you again."

"And how did you get off that prison planet, T'Pol," said Forrest. "I know you wouldn't lie to me, right?"

"No, sir," said T'Pol. "I believe it was due to a clerical error, but I may be mistaken."

"A clerical error," said Forrest. "And did Reed or Tucker have anything to do with that clerical error?"

"You would have to ask them that, sir," said T'Pol. "I prefer not to speculate, but as for me, one can hardly blame me for taking advantage of the opportunity."

"And if Krios Prime's government should demand you back once they learn of your escape?" said Forrest.

"Neither Earth nor Vulcan have an extradition treaty with Krios Prime," said T'Pol, "and even if they did, I could fight the extradition. I would still get a jury trial before being turned over to Krios Prime. All it would take is one juror on my side to keep me free."

And with those almond eyes, thought Forrest, no man will send you to prison. Hell, even the women would hang the jury, at the harshness of the sentence imposed.

"Yes," said Forrest, then turned to Malcolm and said, "What about it, Lt. Reed? Care to tell me how you got T'Pol off Kalen Tesar?"

"You ask as if you have proof that I did such a thing, sir," said Malcolm. "If so, I respectfully request a chance to review that proof."

"You're going to hang your hat on that, Lt. Reed?" said Forrest. "You're a bright officer. You could go far in StarFleet, but not if you lie to me."

"I understand, sir," said Malcom.

Forrest said, "So what were you and Commander Tucker doing during all that time, Lt. Reed?"

"Hopping a series of tramp freighters, sir," said Malcolm.

"Give me some names, Lt. Reed," said Forrest. "I'd like to speak to their captains."

Malcolm grimaced, and said, "I don't recall the names, sir. There were so many."

"I see," said Forrest.

* * *

Admiral Taylor had watched Trip most closely during this farce, for he rather admired the man's gumption to rescue his wife from prison, but still…

"What bout you, Tucker," said Taylor, his Southern accent quite pronounced. "You've been sittin there with a bored look on your face since you sat down, son, and frankly, it's pissing me off."

"He has a number of such looks, sir," said T'Pol, "and I find them equally annoying. Beg pardon, sir."

Taylor took in T'Pol's poise, noted the Vulcan's beauty, recalled some of the commendations in her record which the Vulcans had shared with StarFleet, and frankly agreed with Tucker's choice. This was a hell of a woman. Then he turned his eyes back to Trip.

"Well? You've got more than a decade's service with StarFleet," said Taylor, "and there's a good chance you flushed all that down the drain, and yet you don't seem too concerned about that."

"That's because I'm not, sir," said Trip. "I'm just glad to have my wife back. I get it. I'll probably be drummed out of the service, for what you think I did, and yet can not prove, and I say, so what. A dozen headhunters have approached me since our return, offering me four to five times what you're paying me just to get a discussion going, sir, given my education, practical experience and exposure to alien forms of propulsion. So do what you have to do, sir."

Taylor laughed, and said, "You're a prick, Tucker! But I like you."

* * *

"Yes, let's talk about your wife, Commander Tucker," said Forrest. "When exactly were you and SubCommander T'Pol married, mated, whatever?"

"After T'Pol struck the First Monarch," said Trip. "It was a legal maneuver, to attempt to preserve her life, but I desired her long before that event took place."

"You desired her, but not enough to keep you from having sex with Kaitaama, eh, boy?" said Taylor.

Trip blushed a bit, and said, "At the time I bedded the First Monarch, I was not aware of the fact that T'Pol had any interest in me. I'd asked her, and she denied having any such interest in me."

"And why did you strike the First Monarch, T'Pol," said Ryan, a calculating gleam in his eye. "That was never established to my satisfaction."

"Given my interest in Commander Tucker, even if unexpressed," said T'Pol skirting round the truth, "I think my motivations are quite apparent."

"And you had no other reasons?" said Ryan, and if not for the poised neutrality cultivated by Vulcans, T'Pol's face might have given her away.

"What other reasons can you name, Admiral?" said T'Pol.

"None, T'Pol," said Ryan, "but I will continue looking into the matter, until I'm satisfied."

"Yes, sir," said T'Pol.

* * *

Just then, a Vulcan came in and whispered in Soval's ear. Soval asked something of the Vulcan in their own tongue and then nodded.

"The First Monarch has heard we are holding an inquiry into the events at Krios Prime," said Soval. "She wishes to speak to Commander Tucker in private for a few moments, if possible, then asks to address you three admirals, if you could spare a few moments for her."

"Certainly," said Ryan.

"The First Monarch's transmission is being sent to Vulcan, and from there to Earth," said Soval. "We'll need a few minutes to fine tune the signal, eliminate distortion as much as possible. In the meantime, Commander Tucker, perhaps you will make your way to the fifth floor. Room 17."

The fifth floor was allotted entirely to the Vulcans associated with StarFleet, so Trip stood. He made eye contact with T'Pol and the look she returned was collected, but he felt dread through the Bond. He reached out to her, and Trip felt her controlling emotions, as T'Pol felt threatened by Kaitaama on a personal level for Trip's affections.

—You could listen in, he sent to her through the Bond.

After a moment's consideration, T'Pol's thought reached him.

—It would be rude. I trust you.

* * *

It was ten minutes later, that Kaitaama's image appeared on the wall monitor and Trip stood, and smiled. The woman had that effect on him. If not for T'Pol, he'd have been well off with Kaitaama.

"You magnificent bastard!" said Kaitaama, smiling as well now. "First you rescue me, then you put me in my place, then you bed me, and bed me yet again not long ago, and then you Bond with T'Pol and rescue her from a prison planet! You would make a fine Royal Consort, Commander Tucker."

Trip bowed his head to acknowledge the compliment, and said, "No hard feelings, Kaitaama?"

"Some hard feelings, Trip," said Kaitaama, "but I wouldn't change a thing, other than putting my brand on you before T'Pol."

"Cheer up," said Trip. "You know Vulcans can drive a man crazy. T'Pol and I will probably kill each other soon enough. Hell, we argue most of the time. Sooner or later, a wrench or a phaser is bound to jump into the mix."

"I'd never wish that, Trip," said Kaitaama, "but I want you to promise me something."

"What's that, Kaitaama?"

"If you and T'Pol don't work out, visit Krios Prime again."

"I promise," said Trip, laughing now. "We were good together, no?"

"Yes," said Kaitaama, smiling warmly now. "We have a limited time on this connection, so let me address your admirals, get you out of hot water."

"I'd be much obliged," said Trip. "I'll see you back in the conference room."

"Right," said Kaitaama, "and Trip..."

Trip turned.

"Remember your promise."

* * *

Kaitaama's data stream was transferred to the conference room, and everyone stood as the First Monarch appeared on the monitor, and then Kaitaama bid them to take their seats.

"I apologize for interrupting this inquiry, Admirals," said Kaitaama, and Ryan assured her it was nothing. "T'Pol, how are you?"

"I am well, First Monarch," said T'Pol.

"I would like to apologize to you for your treatment," said Kaitaama. "I was quite angry with you when you struck me, but I had no intention of leaving you to waste away on Kalen Tesar. I was maneuvering to have you released even as you made your escape."

"That was kind of you, First Monarch," said T'Pol, "given my provocation."

Kaitaama nodded to T'Pol, then looked at Trip as he made his way back into the room. She then turned her attention to the admirals, and said, "The Enterprise's visit went off the rails, I will agree, but rest assured, I hold you no ill will. It was still a StarFleet ship and a StarFleet crew that saved my life, and I will not forget that, three years from now when I take the reigns of my government."

Ryan smiled, pleased, for he was the one most angered by this entire fiasco, while Forrest was more focused on expanding ties with Vulcan, and Taylor wanted to expand the fleet, rather than wasting resources on far off StarBases that would not have any ships to service to begin with, if they did not expand the fleet.

"And so," said Kaitaama, as the transmission began breaking down, "I look forward to continuing cordial relations between our peoples."

Before the transmission broke down completely, she gave a brief wave, and she and Trip made eye contact once more, and the First Monarch winked, and smiled.

Soval was relieved. The High Command had ordered Soval to minimize the damage to both Tucker and T'Pol if possible. Logic had dictated the High Command's maneuvers to stop the premature expansion of StarFleet so far from home, and so close to the Rihansu, but if truth be told, the High Command looked in that direction with unease, for it was only a matter of time, until the dark side of the Vulcan soul must be faced once more, but this time on the physical plane with ships, torpedoes and phasers, rather than the mental plane of ideology.

"We'll consider everything," said Ryan, "and decide on our course. Frankly I know you're all lying through your teeth, and if I could prove it I'd be tempted to toss your asses out of the fleet, even given Kaitaama's patience with your antics. The Enterprise is due for some maintenance and some minor upgrades at the lunar shipyards. Until then you're all placed on leave. We'll let you know our decision in a few days. Dismissed."

As the crew headed for the door, Admiral Taylor said, "Commander Tucker."

Trip turned, and said, "Sir?"

"You think you'll ever make your way to Krios Prime again," said Taylor with a smile.

"Hard to say where my duty will take me, sir," said Trip, and Taylor laughed.

This young whipper snapper had a way with the ladies, but judging by the look T'Pol gave Commander Tucker, he'd never see Krios Prime again. Never, ever again.

* * *

"I told Erika I'd call her after our hearing," said Archer. "We have plans for tonight, so I'll take my leave. I've got to spruce myself up."

"How do you think things will shake out?" said Trip.

"As Ryan said, they know we're lying, but they can't prove it," said Archer. "They'll put us on a tight leash just so we know who is in charge, until something pops off and they need us back to our old ways, making things happen. We're like warhorses, Trip. They like to see some spirit in their captains, and commanders."

"You sound like you know what you're talking about, Captain," said T'Pol.

"I do," said Archer. "Given Kaitaama's response to your escape, which was better than they expected, and the sheer difficulties in expanding that far out in space at this time, well they'll call it a wash. We've got bigger problems closer to home."

"Aye, sir," said Trip, and T'Pol gave the captain a nod as the man moved off to make his meeting with Captain Hernandez.

"Well," said Trip, "I guess now that it's all over, we can go to Vulcan and have the Bond severed."

Trip felt T'Pol's astonishment through the Bond, felt her probing his thoughts, searching for the truth in his statement.

"Yes," said T'Pol, as cool as a cucumber in an ice bath. "First chance we get."

"Good," said Trip, just barely restraining his laughter, for he could see right through T'Pol. "You think we'll make it to Vulcan in time?"

"I assure you, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol, sensing her mate's mirth, and coming to accept the fact that her days of inscrutability were over, at least with him, "that we will not get there in time, even if I have to set the Engine Room on fire, or sabotage the Enterprise in an even more drastic way. I will kill us all, before I allow you to sever our Bond."

Trip laughed aloud at the thought of T'Pol acting so recklessly, and as the two walked down the hallway he looked down at his left hand. T'Pol had extended her middle and index fingers in order to touch his hand. It was a subtle gesture, just like her, and cute. Trip copied her gesture, caressed the back of her hand, then touched his extended fingers to her, as they entered the elevator.

"So what now, since we are on leave?" said T'Pol, wrapping her fingers round Trip's.

"You meet my family," said Trip. "They've been begging, pleading and crying for me to choose a wife. They want grandkids."

"Are you certain that we should do that now, without preparation?" said T'Pol, uneasy at the very thought, for she was uncertain of how Trip's parents would react to discovering that their son had taken a Vulcan mate.

"Well, I suppose we could go to Vulcan and I could meet your mom," said Trip, with a devilish smile.

Oh, no! thought T'Pol. Not that!

T'Pol's relationship with her mother had often been strained, and she did not think it wise to introduce T'Les to her Human mate, a Human which T'Pol had never mentioned to T'Les, without preparation. No, there would be some delicate maneuvers involved in introducing her mother, to her mate.

"No, no, Commander Tucker," said T'Pol. "That will not do. We will go to Vulcan at a later time, after I have a chance to drop some hints to my mother, through a letter or two."

"Well if you don't like either of those ideas," said Trip, "I suppose we could go back to Krios Prime. I'm sure Kaitaama would be glad to see me back."

"Your parents," said T'Pol. "Let's go see your parents."


End file.
